Patient Potions Master
by Clare Mansfield
Summary: It is the begining of another week during Harry's sixth year, and tempers are once again tested in Double Potions. How will Harry cope with a weeks worth of detentions and will what is revealed during these detentions help him accept Sirius' death?Pls R
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, they all belong to J.K.Rowling. The story, however, is entirely of my own construction.

A/N: Maybe a one-shot...who knows? Depends on what you guys think. I always felt the best stuff in the books happened between Snape and Harry, so here is my attempt at creating that myself. No real plot. No Slash. I hope they are all in charcater. Just felt like writing a little something really.

* * *

By now Harry knew when it was going to begin; everything that was bitter and hurtful that was exchanged between them followed a predictable pattern that made Harry's chest tighten as he clenched his fists out of sight under the desk. It had always been this way; since Harry's first day at Hogwarts he had known that the hatred he felt could only swell and grow to unfathomable proportions. He couldn't even remember a single lesson when there hadn't been a confrontation; every week it was the same. Harry would do something wrong, often minor to the taunting of Malfoy or the catastrophes of Neville; yet these could always be overlooked…it was only Harry who would attract the particular attention of the potions master.

As usual, things were not progressing well. Harry looked up at Ron who was starring helplessly down into his cauldron, and then mouthing something which distinctly looked like something Mrs Weasley would have been shocked to have heard. Harry grinned, yet was immediately distracted by a large bang to his right. Neville peered tentatively from over the top of his cauldron, his face covered in a thin film of blue slime.

"Mr Longbottom," a cold voice from the front of the classroom caused Harry to close his eyes and bite down on his tongue hard, "If you could please refrain from destroying yet another cauldron with your completely avoidable accidents."

Harry opened his eyes and stared at the potions master as he leaned over and peered into Pansy Parkinson's cauldron, congratulating her on the exemplary consistency of her potion, and awarding ten points to Slytherin. If there was anyone on this earth that Harry hated more than Severus Snape, he was yet to meet them. Of course, there was Voldermort Harry thought. That was different. Voldermort never left him uncertain on whose side he was on. Harry knew that Voldermort hated him, feared him, longed to rid him of this world forever; but with Snape, Harry could never be sure. As if he had heard him thinking, Snape's head flicked round as he eyed Harry with suspicion. Harry glared back.

"Pssst!" Harry heard Hermoine hiss across to him. Harry's eyes were drawn from Snape's as Hermoine pointed down at Harry's cauldron. "You were supposed to stir it counter clockwise."

"Oh," Harry muttered dejected, gazing down at the potion which, instead of smouldering a deep red, had congealed into a thick green.

"Well, well Potter, I might have known that you would have managed to, once again, prove yourself incapable of following even the most basic of instructions." Snape threw a brief smirk at the table of Slytherins before snapping, "Ten points from Gryffindor!"

Neville sighed, Ron's face contorted into his familiar look of hurt injustice, Hermione's eyes remained fixed on her cauldron in front of her. For a brief moment Harry debated answering back; telling Snape exactly what he could do with his instructions, but with a great amount of self control he suppressed the angry bubble that threatened to rise in his throat. He refused to give Snape the provocation to deduct more points from Gryffindor.

Harry raised his eyes to meet Snape's black, empty stare. The potion master had laid his palms flat on Harry's desk and was leaning close into him. Why wouldn't he just piss off…go and torment someone else for a change? Why did it always have to be him?

"You know Potter," Snape's voice had adopted that dangerously taunting tone he had used so many times before to lure Harry into yet another detention, "If you spent more time concentrating on your potion rather than talking to Miss Granger here, then maybe, once in a while, you would get one right."

For a moment, Harry said nothing but, after a few moments of silence, to Snape's horror he said, "Sorry professor."

Snape's face contorted with displeasure before he turned his back on Harry quickly, his black robes swishing as he turned. Yet suddenly he thought better and, turning to face Harry once more, his lips curled into an unpleasant smile.

"I do not think it is at all appropriate for you and Miss Granger to conduct your personal affairs in my lesson Potter."

Sneers from the Slytherians made Harry look over at Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle who were kissing the air repulsively.

"She was only trying to tell me…"

Before he could finish, Snape had interrupted, "It is of no interest to me what you and Miss Granger choose to talk about in private, but while you are in my lesson, you will refrain from idle chit chat and sweet nothings."

"Sweet nothings," Ron scoffed, unable to remain silent any longer, Quickly, Snape's eyes were upon him as he continued, "You don't really think…I mean you can't really assume…"

"Another ten points from Gryffindor!" Snape snapped savagely, his eyes once again turning to Harry, whose cheeks had begun to burn with that familiar, irrepressible rage. He felt his eyes lock fast onto Snape's triumphant face, silently daring him to take another ten points.

"If you really don't want people to believe what they write about you in the Daily Prophet, then maybe you should not relish in exposure so much."

Harry heard the Slytherians snigger as Snape continued to taunt, "Oh yes Potter, even you are not guiltless of the crime of vanity. It is clearly visible in every Quidditch victory, in every smart remark you make, expecting yourself to go unpunished. I see it in you when no one else cannot…" Something sinister was concealed behind his words and Harry knew that Snape was talking about the Occulemency lessons he had given Harry last year, and of the memories of Harry's he had invaded. "It is your supreme arrogance which makes you positively incompetent of following anyone else's orders but your own."

"But Professor, I was only telling Harry that…"

"Do you recall asking me for your opinion, Miss Granger?" Hermione sat back in her chair, her eyes avoiding Snape's. "Another ten points from Gryffindor." The Slytherians seemed to be on the verge of a cheer as he continued, glancing around rather manically at the Gryffindors, "And unless you would like to make it fifty, I suggest that no-one else speaks for the rest of the lesson, am I understood?"

For a moment Harry said nothing, watching Snape's eyes dance with glee as he wrote down yet another "0" next to Neville's name. But he had listened enough; he had held his tongue and both Hermione and Ron had tried to defend him instead.

"She was only trying to help me," Harry snapped at Snape, after appearing to have gone temporarily deaf, asked Harry, "Excuse me?"

"I said that Hermione was only trying to help me with my potion."

"Should have known that Potter would stand up for his dirty little mud-blood girlfriend," Malfoy hissed, to be met with laughter from Crabbe and Goyle. Many of the Gryffindors gasped, Harry could feel his insides burn with anger as he looked up expectantly at Snape. Even he could not ignore Malfoy's comment.

Indeed, Snape had turned to face Malfoy yet, after thinking for a moment, he began, "Mister Malfoy I suggest that you do not insult someone in future, unless you get the insult entirely right." His eyes flashed pure hatred at first Hemione, and then Harry as he articulated bitterly, "Mister Weasley has already informed us that Miss Granger is not Mister Potter's girlfriend."

Malfoy looked confused for a moment, trying to work out whether Snape had just told him off or not. Yet Harry understood…he had understood Snape perfectly and as soon as Snape had turned his back to walk triumphantly back to his desk, Harry was on his feet.

"Don't you dare call her that!"

Snape froze, turning coolly to face Harry directly, as he continued to fume, "Don't you dare!"

"I do not recall calling Miss Granger anything."

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle grinned. Hermione tried to whisper for Harry to stop, but this time it had gone far enough.

"Half the class heard what you said…half the class knows what you were suggesting…"

"The Daily Prophet was right, you truly are deranged."

Snape turned his back on Harry, who swiftly pulled out his wand from his robes and pointed it at the back of Snape's head. How long had he dreamt of blasting Snape into oblivion? He and Ron had discussed (at great length sometimes) what hexes they would perform on Snape if they ever got the chance.

"Apologise to her or I'll…" But before Harry could finish his sentence, Snape had turned around, wand in his hand and with a yell of "_Expelliarmus!_" sent Harry's wand flying.

"Threatening a teacher Potter, how very foolish…another thirty points from Gryffindor." Snape paused, pocketing both his and Harry's wand before continuing smoothly, "Until you can learn how to control yourself Potter, I shall be confiscating your wand for the rest of the day. You may collect it from Professor McGonagall's office at the end of the day."

Harry sat back down, his eyes burning into the back of Snape's head as he walked back to the front of the room. I hate him, he thought viciously, ignoring the jeers from Malfoy. I hate him.

"Oh yes…I almost forgot," Snape turned, his black eyes fixed on Harry as he said without even a flicker of sympathy, "Detention."

* * *

So what do you think? Maybe it needs another two short chapters for the actual detention. Would be cool to write more...got a view ideas. Reviews and suggestions are always most welcome! 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Cheers very muchly for all the reviews. Really encouragied me to write more (after I did my revision sigh). So, needless to say, this is no longer a one shot. I'm really happy you guys thought they were in character...it's the hardest thing to do...And whoever said about Snape's and Harry's flaws holding them back I totally agree...that and the fact that, in many ways, they are actually quite similar.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, he is J.K's, as are all the other characters. But I am the one who has written this story. No harm done.

* * *

"You should have ignored him," Hermione gushed, lifting her eyes from the text book she had previously been engrossed in.

"That's easy for you to say," Ron snapped defensively, "Harry was only trying to stick up for you, and you still manage to have a go…"

"I'm not having a go at anyone," Hermione's response was short and sharp, as she snapped the book she had been reading shut, and gave Ron a burning look, "I'm merely suggesting that if Harry had ignored Snape, then he wouldn't find himself with a whole week's worth of detentions…"

Harry, who was sitting in his favourite armchair in the Gryffindor Common room, directly in front of the fire, made a decided effort to not meet the eyes of either Ron or Hermione. He had been in the presence of their arguments before; and he now knew it was best to keep his mouth closed.

"You're always just suggesting…" Ron mumbled, before he turned to Harry, "I don't blame you…Snape was out of the order, the whole class heard what he was going to say…I know I would have hexed him given half the chance."

Harry said nothing, but inside he smiled. There was no way on this earth that Ron would ever do that.

"Don't be such an idiot Ron!" Hermione's voice was impatient and Harry rolled his eyes. "What Harry's done is very serious. Threatening a teacher, even Snape, is something that deserves…"

"Are you saying that Harry deserves a week's worth of detentions with that slippery git?"

"Enough!" Harry's voice silenced the argument; Ron folded his arms dramatically across his chest, while Hermione suddenly found the pattern on the carpet beneath her feet infinitely interesting. "Hermione is right Ron…" Harry began, as Ron's mouth fell open in disbelief, "I should never have pulled my wand on Snape."

"But he provoked you Harry…he was just waiting for an excuse to give you detention…" Even Hermione nodded in agreement as Ron continued, "The Gryffindor's there would all vouch for you…we could go to McGonagall…explain to her…"

Harry shook his head slowly. "There wouldn't be any proof…the Slytherians would side with Snape…I'll just have to do it won't I?"

Ron shrugged, defeated. Hermione, on the other hand, flashed one of her characteristically confident smiles and said, "Me and Ron will wait up for you. It will give us a chance to get started on our Transfiguration essays."

"But we only got set them today," Ron whined, shooting Harry a desperate glance that seemed to suggest he would rather be having the detention himself. Hermione tossed her head and said, "We're N.E.W.T students now Ron. We can't afford to fall behind…"

"When have you ever fallen behind?" Hermione rolled her eyes and once again opened her book.

* * *

Harry stood outside the door, letting his bag slide heavily from his shoulder and land with a thump on the floor. He looked at his watch; 8 o'clock, he wasn't too early. Yet he had knocked at least four times now and had been met with nothing but silence. Maybe Snape had forgotten, Harry thought hopefully, maybe he's given out so many detentions today that he's forgotten that he gave me one too?

Fat chance. The idea that Snape would have forgotten him was almost too ridiculous for words. He had probably been looking forward to it all day; another opportunity to make snide comments, whilst he would have to perform some boring and monotonous task on Snape's behalf…no…he wouldn't have forgotten.

Maybe he was ill…or maybe he was dead? Harry grimly suppressed a smile as he envisioned Snape slumped over his desk, his black, greasy hair falling across his face, as the headline of the Daily Prophet read, "Death Eater found Dead at Hogwarts."

Harry looked at his watch again; 8.15. That's it Harry thought, I'm leaving. It was most likely Snape was attempting to humiliate him; ignoring his knocking as long as possible so he could accuse him of being late and deduct more points from Gryffindor. Harry picked up his bag and, turning round, walked straight into Snape who had approached almost silently from behind.

"Watch where you're going Potter," Snape said, dusting down his robes swiftly as if to rid himself of any traces of him. Harry noticed that he was trembling, fumbling with his keys as he opened the door to the classroom. Snape swept swiftly in and, with a flick of his wand, ignited the torches that lined the murky dungeon, sending flickering shadows across the wall. Harry hesitated in the doorway, watching as Snape sat down at the desk and, as if he had forgotten that Harry was there, muttered something under his breath impatiently, and buried his head in his hands.

Harry took a step forward and immediately Snape looked up, his eyes black and flashing with something that Harry had never seen in them before.

"Enlighten me; are you planning to hang around in my doorway all evening?" Harry said nothing, stepping inside the classroom, and closing the door behind him. Placing his bag down on one of the desks, Harry did not sit as he continued to watch Snape sitting at his desk. He seemed to have clamed himself now; his eyes had lost the…dare Harry think it…the sadness they possessed earlier; his body had regained its familiar rigidity.

"Find something interesting in my appearance?" Snape snapped, his eyebrows knitting together, his face as dark as a thundercloud. At once, Harry's head was full of witty come backs…a million insults that Sirius himself would have been proud of. Suddenly, the smirk that had spread across Harry's face died away as thoughts of Sirius filled his head. He did not want to think about his Godfather now; not in this room, not with this man.

"No sir," Harry managed coolly. Snape suddenly stood up and, after picking up a cardboard box, he placed it down on the desk in front of Harry; bottles tinkling within.

"There are a hundred bottles here that need to be washed and scrubbed clean of their old labels…" The tips of Harry's fingers already burnt with the prospect of peeling back so many labels. "The Muggle way…of course…"

Snape's lips formed a cruel smile which Harry returned with interest.

"Of course…professor."

* * *

For about the millionth time that evening, Harry checked his watch. 9.40…only twenty minutes to go and Harry would be free from detention. Looking down at his hands, which had spent most of the time submerged under the now freezing cold water, were pink and wrinkled from scrubbing the bottles clean. Black, sticky stuff had lodged itself under his finger nails where he had peeled back label after label; all the time doing so in absolute silence.

Harry raised his eyes to where Snape was seated behind his desk, glowering down at a number of parchments that were spread in front of him, each bearing a more abysmal grade than the last. Snape hadn't said a word to him since he had told him what it was he had to do. Instead, he had sat behind his desk, tuting softly down at the essays he had been marking, yet smiling every time he was able to write a discouraging comment or two across them.

So this was it, Harry thought to himself, this was Severus Snape's existence? Down in the dark depths of the dungeons, all alone, gaining pleasure from thwarting the ambitions of many a Hogwart's student. My god, this man is pathetic Harry thought, eyeing the way he wrote another looping "0" at the end of an essay. As if he had heard Harry's thoughts Snape looked up from the parchment from under his greasy hair.

"Is there something you would like to say Potter?" he hissed.

Harry's eyes darkened as he poured water out of the very last bottle, placing it next to the others with the words, "Just that I've finished."

Snape left his desk, quill still hovering in the air above the parchment, and walked over to inspect Harry's work. Harry suppressed a grin; the years of washing up for the Dursleys had evidently paid off, and even Snape could not ignore the way the bottles glinted in the dimly lit chamber.

"Very well Potter," Snape said quietly, flicking his wand in the direction of the box so that the bottles packed inside neatly, before skimming across the desks to rest against the wall.

Harry stood up, relieved that his detention was finally over, as he grabbed his bag from the floor. But Snape seemed to look at him like he was insane; his head cocked to one side, his hands resting languorously on his hips.

"Just where do you think you're going?" Snape asked.

Harry opened his mouth to answer but, thinking better of it; he glanced down at his watch. There was still ten minutes to go. Snape was just the kind of teacher to make a student stay the full two hours, regardless of whether the punishment was complete or not. Without saying a word, Harry sat back down, glaring at Snape who stood motionless, his eyes still fixed on Harry.

"I find it fascinating that after that little stunt you pulled in class this morning, you expect to be relinquished from your punishment early…." Snape shook his head slowly. "You seem to think that a two hour detention should be different for you, than for everyone else."

"I didn't see the time," Harry replied through gritted teeth, attempting to ignore the way that Snape seemed to be mocking him with his eyes.

"And of course, it wouldn't even cross your mind to wait to be dismissed." Harry's jaw seemed locked in place, not allowing him to snap back in the way he wanted to. Sensing the restraint he was employing Snape leant back against the desk opposite where Harry was sat, and folded his arms across his chest.

"This is not like you Potter…what has happened to your characteristic arrogance?"

"A characteristic you accuse me of…" It happened; the words had burst past his lips before he had time to think what he was doing. Snape's lips curled satisfactorily at the corners.

"Ah yes…" he hissed softly, quietly, his eyes burning down into Harry's, "There it is…that certain Potter charm…"

"And let me guess…" Harry's tongue seemed to now be forming the words his brain was warning him not to speak, "just like my father?"

Snape's eyes sparkled darkly with amusement as if he was on the verge of a sneer.

"You have finally come to accept the man your father really was I see?"

"If you mean the boy you remember than yes."

Snape grimaced at Harry's words. He knew only too well that Snape would not have forgotten what Harry had seen when he used the Pensieve to see into Snape's past. He had been furious, shaking with rage as he commanded Harry to get out of the room at once. It was then that his Occulemency lessons from Snape had come to an end.

"Be under no illusions," Snape began, his voice dark and dangerous as he took a step closer to where Harry was seated, "Your father was not the man you imagine him to be. He wasn't the man that Dumbledore respects, or the man so fondly remembered by Remus…" Harry felt as if his skin was on fire as he remained focused on the look of loathing in Snape's eyes. He took another step towards Harry, his face twisted and pale as he continued to articulate, "James Potter was a cruel, self obsessed bully who cared nothing for the feelings of anyone but himself."

Harry was on his feet in a moment, quaking with anger, fists clenched tightly by his sides. His heart was pounding as his blood screamed _hit him, hit him, hit him!_

"My father was none of those things," Harry's voice was hot and wavering.

"But you never knew him did you?" Snape continued; his voice cold and rigid; only his eyes betrayed the fury that was bubbling within. "You wish to believe that your father was a man to be proud of, a man to aspire to be…and I can't say I blame you…" Snape paused, his voice was low and full of hatred as he ended, "If I had had a father like him, I would probably do the same."

Harry's face was scarlet. Everything seemed to merge as he remained fixed on Snape's face; his smirking, cold, contemptuous face. His mind was throbbing as he fought the desire to reach out and take Snape's throat in his hand, and squeeze the smile from him. Yet suddenly the burning hatred Harry was feeling was replaced with something else, his heart pounding in his ears as his eyes stung dangerously close to tears. If Snape had been anyone else his face would have softened when he had seen those green eyes grow glossy; yet he did nothing but smile triumphantly as Harry forced a sob back down his throat. He would not let Snape upset him; he refused to let Snape see him cry.

"You know nothing about my father," Harry managed to say, his voice full of the threat of tears before he grabbed his bag from the desk, and stormed out of the room.

* * *

So...what do you think? Angsty I know...but if anyone is allowed to be angsty it's Harry? Keeping them in character okay? Reviews very welcome! 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you for so many encouraging reviews. They really do help me along with my writing. Obviously, as I have already said in my summary, this takes places after OotP, so it obviously contains spoliers for that book, and previous books. This chapter is rather angsty (which is what some of you liked). Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: If I was J.K.Rowling, and owned these characters, would I really be writing on here? The characters are not mine, but this is my story. Imitation is the greatest form of flattery.

* * *

Harry had virtually ran through the corridors back to Gryffindor Tower; not pausing to look back, nor to apologise as he inadvertently brushed past Ginny so hard that she fell to the floor. This was not the time for hesitated apologies. He needed to escape; to rid himself of the thought of Snape smiling as he pushed Harry dangerously close to tears. He bit down on his tongue hard before snapping at the Fat Lady, "Giggly Squits."

The Fat Lady seemed to look as if she was debating commenting on Harry's temper but, as if thinking better of it, she said nothing as she allowed him to climb inside. To Harry's relief there was no sign of Ron or Hermione in the common room…in fact, the room was completely deserted except for Crookshanks, who threw Harry a disapproving look as he entered before stretching back out in front of the fire. No doubt Ron and Hermione had argued; she had made one too many "helpful" comments; Ron properly was not giving their Transfiguration essays his undivided attention, and they had gone to bed after many angry words, each storming there separate ways.

Dumping his bag down in the corner of the room Harry threw himself down into his favourite armchair in front of the fire, his face dark as thoughts of Snape filled his head. Was it usually this bad, he thought, his body rigid with hatred. Had Snape always been this way, or had something happened to make him appear worse than he usually was? Harry thought back to his first year at Hogwarts, when he, Ron and Hermione had been convinced that Snape was the one jinxing Harry…that he was the one who wanted the Philosophers Stone. Yet they had been wrong, hadn't they? They had all been wrong and yet there was something about Snape; the way he ruthlessly provoked Harry at every opportunity…and how could Dumbledore just ignore the fact that Snape had been, and probably was still, a Death Eater. No, Harry thought digging his nails into the arms of the chair; he would never trust Snape…never.

A hot coal cracked in the flames and shot out into the carpet at Harry's feet, sending Crookshanks hissing and spitting into the corner of the room. Harry jumped, startled out of his thoughts of Snape, and turned his attention to the dying ashes of the fire. Suddenly, it was as if something cold was slipping through Harry's veins, tightening his heart in his chest as it froze beneath his skin. Harry's eyes were fixed on the coals of the fire as painfully he remembered when Sirius' face had appeared in these very flames. His eyes began to sting as he focused harder on the fire before him, the golds and reds merging before his eyes.

_Be there_ he heard a voice inside his head willing as he glared into the flames; _be there…be there…be there_.

As if he was not expecting the impossible, Harry shot to his feet in anger, kicking the now cold coal hard into the fireplace, and shouting "Fine!" And with that, he picked up his bag and stormed up the stairs.

The room was filled with the soft sounds of sleep, occasionally broken by one of Ron's rattling snores, as Harry sat down on his bed, the silvery moonlight filtering through the window and casting swimming shadows across the room. Harry sat almost motionless, his heart still a block of ice, tight and unmoving, as he stared at the sleeping shapes beneath the sheets.

Harry had hesitated before slowly dropping to his knees and reaching under his bed to find the badly wrapped package he had concealed there and attempted to forget about. Scurrying backwards with his back against the cold stone wall, Harry tucked his knees up under his chest before turning the package over in his hands.

His heart was pounding once more, sending hot surges of blood rushing round his body as he slipped off the brown paper and string to reveal the small, square, dirty mirror that was hidden within. Harry saw his own face stare back at him through the fragmented glass before he closed his eyes tightly; hearing the words of his notes ringing through his mind; so many times he had read them over and over:

_This is a two-way mirror. I've got the other of the pair. If you need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you'll appear in my mirror and I'll be able to talk in yours. James and I used them when we were in separate detentions. _

Harry opened his eyes and stared determined into the mirror, focusing on his multiple reflections before whispering softly, "Sirius". A hot mist on glass, a moment of silence, and Harry found himself blinking down at no-one but him self.

"Sirius…" Harry's voice wavered slightly this time, as he saw him self blinking blankly back up at him. He felt the hot, frustrated tears forming behind his eyes as he whispered, a little firmer than before, "Sirius."

Nothing. Harry let his head fall back against the wall, his eyes screwed up as tight as he could in order to stop the water from leaking down his cheeks. It was no good though, as he closed his hand over the mirror, raising it to his face and pressing it against his cheek.

The sobs were choked, stifled within Harry's throat as the tears came flowing…flowing as if they would never stop. The mirror was cold and hard against his cheek yet Harry hardly noticed, as his body trembled with half-silenced cries. There was nothing… there was nothing in the mirror but himself, shrouded in the darkness of the night. But Harry's voice was strangled with a rage he couldn't explain; anger at his godfather for leaving him alone, anger at his promise to always be there when he needed him, anger at his inability to stay alive; his voice, desperate and ragged with despair, seemed almost childlike as he cried the name softly to the mirror; "Sirius…Sirius…Sirius…"

* * *

"Wellifuadntbeenuchaossyboots" Ron spluttered at Hermione, his mouth full of mashed potato, as he waved his spoon threateningly in her direction. Harry glanced at Hermione; her face had flushed pink at Ron's accusation, her bottom lip trembling.

"It's got nothing to do with me and you know it!" Hermione let her knife and fork clatter to her plate, as she flicked her hair back, irritated, from her eyes. "If you hadn't been so interested in trying to get Lavender Brown's attention, then we wouldn't have been banned from the library all week."

"She says that as if it's a big deal," Ron directed at Harry, trying his best to ignore the way Hermione spluttered in absolute astonishment. Harry winced; preparing himself for the onslaught he knew was following.

"It is a big deal Ron! This year is so important and you don't seem! I know that you may not feel that this is a big deal to you, but to me it is." Hermione was on her feet, gathering her bag before she continued, "And if you knew me at all Ron, you would know that!"

Both Harry and Ron watched Hermione go, head held high, hair bouncing as she walked swiftly out of the hall. Harry said nothing, seeing the way Ron glared after her furiously, his brow furrowed with confusion.

"Mental…absolutely mental…" Harry grinned for the first time all day as Ron leant back on the bench, his stomach bulging over the top of what had previously been oversized trousers. Yet as Harry's eyes left Ron and scanned the table at the front of the hall, all the humour in Ron's comment seemed to be forgotten as he watched Snape slowly reach for the bottle in front of him, and begin to re-fill his glass.

"That bad was it?" Ron asked. Harry continued to glare at Snape, and without turning to face Ron he replied, "The things he said about my father…I think he actually enjoys it."

"Course he does," Ron said matter-of-factly, "Wouldn't expect any less from that cold hearted git."

"I try to ignore him…all the things that he says…but he just has this way of knowing how to get to me. I do try."

"I'm not Hermione…I don't expect you to ignore him. How can you when all he does is insult you? It's not on Harry."

As Ron said this, Snape lifted his eyes from the plate in front of him, his eyes locking firmly with Harry's.

"I won't let him do it again though," Harry muttered, his eyes fixed on Snape, refusing to be the one who turned away first, "He won't get that satisfaction tonight." As if he had heard him Snape's lips curled into a vindictive smile as he very slowly raised his glass in Harry's direction, drained its contents, before leaving the Great Hall, his black robes whipping behind him.

* * *

This time there were no waiting games to be played; as Harry heard a voice call "Enter" from within the room shortly after his first knock. Harry pushed open the door, the dimly lit dungeon smouldering with the licking flames of the lamps which lined the room. Snape was not sitting behind his desk as he had expected, he was standing in front of it, arms folded across his chest, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he articulated, "Close the door behind you Potter."

Harry did as he was told, the door closed with a dull thud that echoed about the dungeon. As he approached, he saw that Snape's eyes were black with excitement, an amused smile playing about his lips as he watched Harry walk towards him. Something wasn't right. Quickly, Harry's eyes surveyed the scene; there was no laborious task laid out; no quill and parchment for lines. Where was Harry's punishment?

"I see you are wondering what it is that you shall have to do," Snape began, his face devoid of the humour that laced every word he spoke. Harry said nothing, but waited for him to continue.

"All you have to do Potter…is to tell me the truth…"

Snape's eyes glinted mercilessly as the realisation swept through Harry, as he once again saw Snape raise his glass to him before drinking it down in one. He could see his pumpkin juice before him before he lifted it to his lips, toasting Snape in return, before he too had left the Great Hall. He hadn't even realised what Snape had done.

"How…how could you have…?" Harry found it impossible to finish as he watched Snape slowly unfold his arms, his face dark with amusement as he began to slowly approach.

"This is not the time for your questions!" Snape paused, his voice quickly returning to cold, hard tones, before he continued, "You're going to tell me everything I want to know Mister Potter. You're going to answer every question I ask."

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Well? What do you guys think? Reviews very welcome! 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I really was so shocked by the number of reviews I got for that last chapter. I wasn't expecting so many, but I loved them! So many encouraging comments. Could the person who suggested I post this on another site enlighten me further.

Angsty chapter follows; hope you all enjoy. Veritaserum as a punishment, how unorthodox. Just remember, Snape is never entirely what he seems.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I only borrow. No offence intended. I'm sure J.K. wouldn't mind.

* * *

Neither of them spoke for a very long time; Harry, his face immobile with shock, had fallen into the chair in front of Snape's desk, his head buried in his hands. Snape, who was still standing, hadn't said a thing; and was instead enjoying himself by watching Harry's reaction. Finally he moved, and, hearing the chair creak as Snape sat down, Harry finally raised his head to face him.

"I won't…I won't…" Harry's voice was fraught, strained in the semi-darkness as he struggled to see away of avoiding what was to follow. Snape simply smiled.

"I'm afraid you haven't much choice in the matter." The dark light of the dungeon seemed to be shimmer, as Harry avoided Snape's eyes. Maybe he could fight it he thought; didn't these sorts of things need eye contact to work? No this was different Harry told himself, his eyes once again returning to Snape's cold, black stare; there was nothing he could do.

"Why?" Harry asked, searching his face for the answer before his lips moved. Yet Snape's face was frozen, strangely white and luminous in the darkness. "I haven't done anything wrong; I haven't stolen anything or been anywhere I shouldn't…"

"You're intellect is truly dazzling." Snape's voice was rich with sarcasm as he swept the greasy strands of hair that had fallen in front of his face, out of his eyes. "It would not even occur to you that this is your punishment."

For a moment, Harry's mind whirred with confusion, as he struggled to process just exactly what Snape was saying. Telling the truth was his punishment…telling the truth was his punishment…

"Now, why don't we start with a few control questions." Snape picked up a long, black quill and dipped it into a pot of violet ink. Harry bit down hard on his bottom lip as if it would physically stop him from answering. "Even someone as experienced as I can sometimes miscalculate the amount of Veritaserum required for absolute honesty."

Harry tried to close off his ears, to not hear the question that Snape was about to ask. Yet something very close to relief washed over Harry as Snape asked, "Are you Harry Potter?"

With laughter repressed behind his voice, Harry's green eyes sparkled as the fear of Snape and his Veritaserum left him.

"Yes," Harry replied. He watched as Snape marked the parchment in front of him without taking his eyes off Harry. He seemed to be reading his reactions, making note of the humour he was feeling, and how this humour only increased when Snape asked, "And are you previously a resident of number four, Privet Drive?"

"Yes," Harry answered without hesitation, momentarily confident that this was the worst Snape had in store. Yet, deep down inside, Harry knew that the worse was yet to come, as once again Snape scrawled something Harry couldn't read across the parchment.

"Well it seems that enough Veritaserum has been administered." Snape moved his hand, leaving the quill hovering in mid air, and clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. Silently, Harry waited, his breath ragged with anticipation. In his mind Harry thought of all the questions that Snape would want to ask; of all the horribly private things he might try to uncover, yet his stomach lurched as Snape's hard voice broke the quiet that had descended.

"Now Potter, I want you to tell me just exactly what you remember of the night your parents died."

Inside, Harry was screaming. Snape's face was perfectly still as he watched Harry shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the question that was ringing in his ears. His heart thudded beneath his rib cage, sending blood which was hot with hatred burning to his cheeks. Out of all the things Harry had expected Snape to ask, this had not been one of them. Yet suddenly, as Harry raised his eyes from the desk in front of him to meet Snape's mocking gaze, the truth of the matter became horribly clear. This is what he had meant by the truth being his punishment. He was going to make Harry relive the horrors that he hardly remembered; telling him all of his darkest fears about what had happened to his parents that night.

For a moment, Snape looked disappointed, as he waited patiently for the Veritaserum to take affect. Harry could already feel it working, slipping through his veins, loosening his tongue. With narrowed eyes, he repeated his question, his voice dragging over every word, making it completely clear what was being asked.

"I can't really remember anything." It was almost as if Harry was outside his body, watching himself talking to Snape in another lifetime, a hundred years from now. _Stop it!_ He willed himself to conquer it, to stop his head from swimming and his lips longing to form the words. Yet it was impossible, and as he dug his nails into the wood of the arm rest, he winced as he continued to speak. "I can only feel things…emotions…the way I felt that night…"

Snape's lips barely moved as he asked, "And what was it you felt?"

"Fear," Harry's voice wavered, as his mind seemed to unhinge and embrace the very darkest feelings which had been hidden for so long. "I remember crying…or I heard crying…I…I think it was me."

It was then Snape smiled, thin and malicious, before writing something rapidly across the page. "Tell me, what do you remember of your father?"

Harry hissed venomously at Snape's question, his skin seemed on fire somewhere just beneath the surface. Yet his tongue was as light as a feather as he replied, "I don't remember anything…well…" Harry's hesitation caused Snape to lean forward in his chair, his hand leaving the quill once again motionless in the air. Harry tried to turn his face away, to hide the honesty for just a moment longer. Yet with a voice that was tight with emotion, Harry heard himself say, "I remember him shouting." Harry closed his eyes tightly, shutting out Snape and the shimmering lights. "I hear him shouting up the stairs…shouting down from below…something was coming through the door."

"Ah," Snape exhaled almost lovingly. Harry winced, bringing his hand up to his forehead to caress his burning scar. He could hear a voice that was most likely his father's shouting in the back of his mind, hollow and distant but full of power.

"He wasn't afraid." Harry's eyes shot open and fixed determinedly on Snape. "I can hear him shouting, but he wasn't afraid. He wasn't afraid to…to…"Harry's voice wavered slightly before he finished, "…to die."

"No, fear would have been beyond him," Snape's voice was dark with resentment; his eyes flashing black, "Your father would have that felt fear was beneath him; even as he faced his death."

Harry could feel the splinters of the chair digging into his finger tips; his jaw locked tight with anger. This was what Snape had wanted, he had wanted to see Harry like this; half furious, half close to tears.

"Yes…" Snape's voice was quietly victorious, as he become absorbed within the memory that was not his own. "I can see it now…Your father before him…before the Dark Lord."

"You wanted him to die didn't you?" Harry was shocked by his sudden outburst; the Veritaserum, it seemed, didn't stop him from snapping, Snape turned to face Harry, and, after a moment of silence, he replied, "It is your time for truth, not mine."

"Why can't you admit it?" Suddenly, Harry became acutely aware of the wand that was concealed within his robes. "Why can't you admit that you wanted him dead?"

Snape looked down his nose at Harry, whose face was positively scarlet; his green eyes smouldering with hatred. With a wave of his wand, the parchment on which Snape had been writing rolled itself up and flew into a drawer on the opposite side of the room.

"What is that you wish me to confess to?" Snape had slowly risen to his feet, and had now moved over to the blackboard. With a wave of his hand, Snape had vanished the various potion ingredients that were listed there, before snapping his head back round to face Harry.

"Tell me about your mother." Harry's stomach lurched and, for a moment, he had forgotten his hatred towards the man in front of him, and released his grasp on the chair.

"What?"

"Your mother, Potter, your mother!" Snape had lost his icy exterior, and for a moment, Harry watched as he shook his head, sending his black hair falling in front of his eyes. Sighing deeply, Snape counted to five under his breath before in one, smooth gesture, he brushed the hair from out of his face. "I want you to tell me about your mother that night," Snape's voice almost cracked as he spoke, yet recovering quickly he continued, "I want you to tell me what you remember about your mother, the night she died."

_Harry!_

That voice, that voice shrieking his name in fear echoed clearly in his mind. That same Dementor inspired voice that seemed to swell up inside and burst inside his heart. He had heard that voice in every nightmare since his third year at Hogwarts. That scream woke him up in the middle of the night; eyes wide, hair damp with sweat. That scream froze his heart, and brought the dangerous sting of tears to his eyes. He didn't want to share this with anyone; especially if that someone was Snape.

But he had no choice…he couldn't have stopped himself if he wanted to, but his voice was swollen with angry despair as he began, "I remember her screaming…that's it…that's all."

It had to be a trick of the light, the way the shadows fell across Snape's face that made it look soft and empathetic. He said nothing to Harry as he turned away from him, staring fixedly into the flames of one of the torches.

"That's it?" Snape's voice was unusually quiet; the rigidity of it lost completely. Harry nodded, yet Snape hardly saw as his eyes danced with the reflection of the fire. Then, to Harry's horror, he saw a smile curling the corners of Snape's mouth. Harry sat, frozen with disbelief, unable to move as he heard Snape speak quietly into the flames, "Little Lily Evans…I bet you died beautifully."

All at once Harry was on his feet, mind whirring, heart pounding as he strode quickly over to where Snape was standing, still staring at the torch. With his mind full of nothing but his mother's scream and Snape's smile he found himself reaching out, grasping Snape firmly by the shoulders, before pushing him back against the wall.

"Smile again," Harry's voice was shaking with anger, his eyes wide with rage as held Snape pinned in place, "Smile again!"

"Is that a demand or a request?"

Harry said nothing, increasing the pressure on Snape's shoulders, causing him to wince in pain. Harry hadn't realised just how much he had grown over the summer; how much power he could exert when provoked. Quidditch had made him strong; Snape was no physical match. Yet instead of cowering back against the wall, Snape had pushed his chest outwards, and his face was inches from Harry's as he said in a silvery whisper, "Your father always favoured physical intimidation. Don't worry Potter, I am very well practiced!"

As he said this, Harry released him, stepping backwards shaking, attempting to steady his breathing once more. Yet he kept hearing that voice._ Harry!_ That voice was always screaming. He kept hearing his father shouting something below, and then silence as someone came through the door.

"My mum died for me, and my dad died for both of us! How can you smile at that?"

Snape said nothing as he rearranged the cuffs on his robes as if nothing untoward had past between them. Stepping back, Harry watched as Snape's face regained its characteristic scowl, every line etched with hatred as he turned his black eyes to Harry.

"Same time tomorrow Potter. Don't be late."

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Well? Opinions? Too evil, too daring, too angsty? 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanking you again for all the reviews. They really make me very happy! I love the thought that my story is being enjoyed as much as I enjoy writing it. And I will definately investigate posting it on Potions and Snitches if you think I should!

A little bit of a break from the angst of the last chapter (ho hum) but alot of questions will be raised in this chapter which will lead to some interesting plot twists. Hope you enoy it! (Including more attention paid to other characters like Neville, and the tension between Ron and Hermione)

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything Harry Potter related. The story is ine however, so please don't sue.

* * *

Harry shivered as a thin, biting breeze blew its way through the owlery, pinching his cheeks into a ruddy red, as he pulled his coat tighter about him. Around him a hundred yellow eyes were watching, blinking at him expectantly as he read the letter back. He knew that the Veritaserum had been clinging to his veins as he had written; after he had left Snape pacing awkwardly in his dungeon, muttering under his breath. As Harry read it back to himself now, he knew that it was stupid to send a letter that no-one would read. Yet something about the way the ink had left the impression of his words, words of truth in the yellowing parchment, comforted him. As he read them over now, his heart seemed to drain of the pain of last night; the pain of remembering the night his parents had died. All that mattered was that this letter would be the first Harry had sent in a very long time. It was the act itself that was important.

_Snape slipped some Veritaserum into my pumpkin juice at dinner last night before my detention with him. He asked me so many questions; things he should never have asked. He wanted to know about the night my mum and dad were murdered. I tried to fight it. I tried not to tell him. I just thought that maybe this is the kind of thing you should know. I know you'll say I should tell Dumbledore, but I just needed to tell you first._

That was it, and as Harry folded the parchment and gestured to Hedwig to fly over, something made his stomach lurch as he whispered, "I want you to take this to Sirius."

Hedwig blinked confused, nipping at one of Harry's fingers as if to reassure him.

"I know Hedwig…" Harry's voice was small in the wind that seemed to run its fingers through his hair, "I know that you can't." Hedwig's eyes were wide as Harry held out the letter for her to take, "But please…"

If Hedwig had been just an ordinary owl Harry wouldn't have even asked. But, knowing that she understood, without question, some of Harry's strangest requests, he hadn't even hesitated before waking her up. With a ruffle of her feathers Hedwig took the letter and, after stretching her wings out to test them, she swooped off of Harry's arm and out into the air.

Harry tightened the red and gold scarf about his neck as he stood watching Hedwig fly off in the distance. Soon, all Harry could see was her graceful black outline etched against the sky, which was becoming rich with the golden sunlight that was slowly creeping over the top of the Forbidden Forest. He knew what he had asked had been impossible; he hardly expected Hedwig to understand. Yet he found comfort in watching Hedwig disappearing into the distance, carrying a letter that was addressed to Sirius; a letter with no destination.

* * *

"What do you think?" Ron asked, shaking out an overly sized moron jumper which had arrived for him first thing this morning. Harry had just entered the room in time to see Ron unwrap it and as he sat watching Ron holding up the jumper against his chest, he could still clearly see the impression of Hedwig against the early morning sun.

"It's erm…" Harry wanted to say nice, although Ron would know this was a lie. "It's…erm…interesting…"

"It's blooming awful that's what it is," Ron said with a roll of his eyes as he let the jumper fall to the bed. Harry glanced at the clock that was projected on the ceiling; a present to Neville from his grandmother in a vain attempt to make sure he was always on time for classes. Harry had at least fifteen minutes before he had to get ready and, after throwing a well rehearsed sympathetic glance in Ron's direction, he flopped back on the bed and opened a copy of "_101 Illegal Quidditch Moves."_

"What do you think of Lavender?" Ron asked with a forced flippancy which caused Harry to stop reading and peer at him over the top of his glasses.

"I don't know…I mean she's alright I guess…quite pretty in an average kind of way." Ron seemed to nod in agreement before responding, "Yeh, she is quite pretty, isn't she?"

"And silly…" Harry offered, not sure he liked the way Ron was carrying on with this topic. Ron screwed up his nose as he said this, before replying, "Oh yeh…I guess she's no Hermione is she? Taking everything dead seriously I mean."

"I don't think there is another girl at Hogwarts like Hermione." Harry watched Ron very carefully as he said this, for any of the tell tale signs of something which Harry had long suspected. True to form, a subtle blush had spread across Ron's cheeks; his eyes had grown distant and glazed all of a sudden.

"She's alright though isn't she?" Ron said, breathy and (dared Harry even think it) lovingly. Harry hesitated, forgetting the magazine he had opened by his side.

"Who…who are we talking about Ron?"

Ron blushed, his eyes once again clearly focused on Harry as he rapidly tried to save him self from any further embarrassment, "Lavender of course!" Harry smiled to offer Ron some kind support before turning his attention once more to the pictures of Quidditch players performing moves that Harry hadn't even dreamt about. He was only giving the magazine half of his attention; his mind was full of unwanted images of his two best friends…together…and not in the kind of way that Harry could approve of. He had seen this coming along way off, although any suggestion he had ever made about this to either Ron or Hermione had always been met with scoffs of disbelief. Yet it wouldn't be long before they stumbled onto the inevitable truth; probably by accident knowing them two; and then everything within their little, close knit group would change. Something would go wrong one day and Harry had already experienced what it was like to be the go between towards the two; if they broke up after going out it would be a hundred times worse.

Suddenly Harry was drawn out of this train of thought by someone almost falling into the room, attempting to steady them selves before stumbling over one of the many pairs of shoes that littered the floor.

"Neville!" Ron scooted over to the edge of his bed, holding out his hand to pull Neville to his feet. Harry threw his magazine aside and jumped to his feet just in time to see Neville, his face a deep red, appear from over the top of Ron's bed.

"I…I…" Neville muttered, his eyes wide as he looked down at the pieces of parchment that had slipped out of his hands and had scattered across the bedroom floor. Harry and Ron began to help Neville pick them up and Ron, who had most of the pieces now in his arms, was screwing up his eyes as he tried to read what was written upside down.

"What is this?" As he said this however, Harry had seen the title page on the floor and had bent down to pick it up. "_Discuss the importance of the Mandrias Balancing System in the construction of a successful potion." _

"It's just Neville's potion essay," began Harry before noticing the mark which was written in a small circle in the corner of the page. Harry gulped in disbelief before turning to Ron and handing him the page. Harry waited for Ron to see what Harry had and, true to form; Ron reacted exactly as Harry had expected he would.

"Bloody hell Neville! You got full marks!"

* * *

When Ron told Hermione that lunchtime about Neville's spectacular achievement in his potions essay, Hermione nearly choked on her sandwiches. After throwing Neville a congratulatory glance where he was sat further down the table, Hermione could barely contain her shock as she said, "I never helped him with his essay. It was the first time in ages that I hadn't. I don't know how he could have done it without me."

"That's why I like you Hermione, you're just so modest." Harry grinned; Ron added an affectionate dig of the elbow just for good measure, to be met with a look of complete contempt from Hermione.

"She's got a point though Ron," Harry offered in an attempt to prevent the argument from even starting, "When have you ever known Neville to get full marks? In anything?"

"Especially Potions…he's hopeless!" Ron took a sharp intake of breath and even Harry was shocked at the bluntness of what Hermione had said. "Well it's true! And let's not forget who it was that marked that essay…"

Ron and Harry looked at each other. Snape. They had forgotten that rather large detail. Asides from Harry, Neville was Snape's other favourite target for double potions on a Monday afternoon; and this was probably due to the fact the Neville was absolutely hopeless at it. No, hopeless was maybe a bit unfair. It was the presence of Snape that made it worse for Neville, who had revealed in the DADA class in the third year that Snape was the thing that frightened him most. It was therefore virtually impossible that he would ever achieve anything above half marks in his essays for Potions, let alone a perfect score.

"He's lost it then," Ron said, taking a swig of pumpkin juice before continuing, "Snape must have gone mad…or made a mistake. There is no way he'd ever give anyone full marks, let alone Neville."

"What was he like in detention last night?" Harry, who had been silently contemplating things to himself, looked up at Hermione. For a moment he almost told them everything; about the Veritaserum, about the questions that he had asked, about his own reaction. But something inside him held him back. No…he couldn't tell Ron and Hermione; not this time. This was something he knew he had to conquer on his own.

"Oh you know…he was his usual charming self."

"But he didn't do anything, did he? You didn't notice anything…odd?" Something about the way Hermione asked this made Harry think that maybe she had seen him this morning, making his way across the grounds, the letter to Sirius in his hands. Maybe Hermione had already guessed that his detentions with Snape had not exactly been normal.

"Odder than normal?" Ron smirked, pushing his plate away from him and patting his stomach satisfactorily. Hermione struggled to suppress a smile. "Oh come on Hermione, you know Snape isn't exactly…well…" Ron didn't even need to finish his sentence. Both Harry and Hermione knew exactly what he meant.

"I just don't understand it," Hermione glanced at her watch before beginning to push her books back into her bag, "One minute Neville can hardly breathe straight in Potions, and the next he's getting full marks."

I don't understand it either Harry thought to himself, trying to remember back to the night before last when he had seen Snape marking their essays.

"Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione snapped at Ron, who had leant across the table and was now in the process of taking yet another sandwich. "You haven't got any time to sit and stuff your face. I thought you'd agreed to use this free period to work on your Transfiguration."

"It's not like we can go to the library." Harry winced in expectation but, to his surprise, Hermione's voice was completely cool as she replied, "I made enough notes when we where in there on Monday. We can work in the common room, no problem."

Reluctantly Ron pushed out his stool, rising to his feet as slowly as possible in order to prolong his departure. Harry looked at him with sympathy; even if Ron did fancy Hermione it still didn't make him any more enthusiastic about the prospect of studying with her.

"I guess I'll see you later then," Ron said as dejected as possible. Harry took a bite out of the sandwich which Ron had been forced to leave on his plate and smirked as he said, "Have fun."

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So what do you think? Reviews much appreciated, as always! 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Lauren Dezario: Thank you so much for the constructive comments! Often I take for granted that I know what's going on, whereas others may be confused. I hope that some of the following chapters help clarify things a little for you (although, just like Rowling, I'm planning for my story to pack the punches at the end! Frustrating I know!)

Smacks head at moroon/moron. What a typo! At least it was in the middle of a comic relief section, not some dead serious angsty stuff!

Okay, I'm going to try and clarify a few things about this story. It started out as a one shot, but I go so mnay nice reviews and encouraging comments that I decided to carry it on. The premise is (without giving anything away) the story takes place over a week at Hogwarts (after OotP but as if HBP isn't happening...could be a section that could have been in HBP-apart from Snape isn't DADA teacher). Harry gets detention at the begining of the week, and therefore is due to have detention with Snape every night (that's five detentions in total). With me so far?

So the story is focused around the tension which grows between Harry and Snape at these detentions; certain things being revealed about each individual character. I can't really say too much as otherwise I'll give away what's comming up, but I hope this helps any of you that may have felt slightly confused.

Hope you enjoy the next two chapters, and they serve to clarify things that are ambivalent, and set in motion things that will happen in the later chapters.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the original stories. I only own what I'm doing to the characters in this. No need to sue!

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"Alright Potter? Off to detention Potter?" Harry once again jumped up into the air, attempting to retrieve his bag from where it was being dangled just a little way out of his reach. It had been awhile since Peeves the Poltergeist had tormented Harry but since he was already ten minutes late for detention, he couldn't have picked a more irritating time to make a nuisance of himself.

"Don't want to be late Potter." The bag was brought down a little lower, but before Harry's hand could close around the strap, the bag swung even further out of reach. "Especially not for old Severus…darling old Severus…"

"Just give me it back Peeves, I'm warning you!" Peeves laughed as the bag continued to swing above Harry's head. Harry looked down to the end of the corridor towards Snape's door which had, as of yet, remained tightly closed. This was not like Snape; he should have been out here by now to see where Harry was, or, at the very least, discover what Peeves was up to. As Harry stared at the door he watched as it slowly clicked open in the draft, sending a thin streak of flickering light across the corridor floor. Immediately Peeves dropped Harry's bag and, after a whisper of "See you around Potter", he quickly disappeared.

In the silence of the freshly departed corridor Harry could hear voices coming from the classroom. After slipping the bag up over his shoulder, Harry slowly began to tip toe a little closer and, with his back pressed against the wall, Harry pressed his eye against the chink the doorway in time enough to see Snape sweep across in front of it.

"And I suppose if Mr Potter didn't tell you himself, I have either Mr Weasley or Miss Granger to thank for their interference."

"As I have already told you Professor," Dumbledore replied, emerging from where he had been sitting somewhere in the classroom, and walking across the room to where Harry could clearly see him, "It is completely irrelevant how this information came to me. What is important however is that you assure me that it will never happen again."

Harry couldn't see Snape's reaction, yet how he was feeling was perfectly expressed in the way that he answered.

"I believe that it is up to the individual tutor to decide on the best form of punishment for the student in question."

"Indeed…indeed you are right. And it is very clear to me that Harry did, whether provoked or not, break the rules." Dumbledore's voice had been soft, pensive as he had spoken. However when he opened his mouth to speak again, it had acquired a firmness that it often had when he was warning Harry against pursuing a topic further. "But despite the fact that I have often respected your unorthodox teaching methods in the past, I will not tolerate the administering of Veritaserum as a punishment on any student. Do I make myself clear?"

Snape had once again moved into Harry's eye line; his dark eyes were flashing with a fury he could barely contain as he replied silkily, "I see now it was a mistake to do so Headmaster. You have my assurances that it will never happen again."

For a moment Dumbledore said nothing, cocking his head to the side as he looked at Snape intently. Harry craned his neck to see more of what was happening, and he saw Dumbledore smile serenely before continuing, "Maybe it would be for the best if I were to supervise Harry's detention this evening. You look tired Severus."

For the first time Harry noticed just how exhausted Snape looked; his eyes were rimmed with dark circles; his face was grey and shrouded with fatigue. Snape placed one of his hands on the top of the chair, gripping it firmly as he responded, "I feel more than capable of supervising Potter this evening."

"I dare say you do, I merely wish to express my concerns as your friend…" Dumbledore's eyes were soft and penetrative as he watched Snape tighten his grasp on the chair. "Maybe your contribution to the Order is affecting you more than either of us could have foreseen." Harry's heart leapt into his throat as Snape glared at Dumbledore, barely hiding his contempt.

"Of course," Snape's voice was so quiet that Harry had to strain his ears in order to hear what was being said, "if you wish me to withdraw from the Order I will respect your judgement."

Dumbledore's eyes glinted in the flickering torch light as for a moment he said nothing, examining Snape carefully. Harry could hardly bare the hesitation as he watched Dumbledore run his fingers through his grey beard.

"No, no," Dumbledore said eventually, "I am sure that you would never have volunteered yourself if you did not believe that you were capable. I trust you Severus."

Snape released his grip from the chair and suddenly, Harry realised that he had turned his head and was now looking directly at where Harry was standing, eyes pressed against the door. In one swift movement of striding limbs and billowing black robes, Snape had crossed the distance between them. Yanking the door wide open, Snape's hand was firmly on Harry's shoulder, pinching it hard as he pulled him into the room.

"Eavesdropping again Potter?" Snape snapped, making it quite clear that no smart retort was expected. Harry glared at Snape, his green eyes hardly able to contain the silent thought that he was directing at Snape. _I dare you when Dumbledore is here._

Snape's lips began to move but, as if he thought better of it, his jaw remained rigid, his teeth locked tightly together. He had read what Harry had been saying over and over in his mind; and now it was Harry's turn to smile as he watched Snape struggle to compose himself.

"I'm sure Harry was just waiting to be admitted." Snape nodded in Dumbledore's direction before releasing Harry, adding in an unseen shove for good measure.

"Now Harry if you would come with me…" Dumbledore moved over to the door, but Harry's eyes were fixed on Snape, who had sat down behind his desk. Why was he suddenly filled with disappointment as he thought of serving detention with Dumbledore instead of Snape? Harry's stomach swam with nausea as he realised that all day, even though his mind had been racing of thoughts of revenge, he had secretly been looking forward to his detention with Snape. He had been looking forward for the opportunity to prove that he wouldn't be such an easy target this time; that he would neither allow himself to be victimised, or to be provoked into physical retaliation. He realised that even though Snape had driven him to tears and to violence, he needed, more than anything to feel that hatred he alone could inspire. It was the only thing that drove him; it was the only thing that kept him going. That hatred was all he could feel.

Of course, he had cried. He cried every night in the darkness, forcing his mouth down onto his pillow so that he wouldn't wake the friends that slept around him. Everyone thought that he had been so strong. Ron and Hermione had been worried that he hadn't shown any signs of grieving when he'd returned to Hogwarts in the autumn; any talk of what had happened that night in the Department of Mysteries was kept well away from him. Harry had made an effort to appear to be getting on with things, just like the way he had acted after Cedric had died. He couldn't grieve like Cho, crying openly at the slightest mention of anything that could be related to Cedric. His grieving was done in the darkness as he whispered into the fire or the mirror, or talked into the canopy above his bed words of desperation, mumbled in between the hot, angry tears. Harry could cry and Harry could hate. These two feeling now seemed to constantly do battle within him for providence, and he preferred it when hatred ruled.

"Come Harry," Dumbledore spoke again, his words distant as Harry continued to gaze at Snape with a need he had never felt before, deep in the pit of his soul. He could hate Snape safely. Snape made it alright to be angry at him, at the world, and at all that had happened to Harry since the day he was born. Snape justified the fury that bubbled up in Harry's throat every time he breathed in this classroom. Snape some how made it acceptable for him to be angry at the world and all that was right in it; when everything inside him seemed to feel so wrong. It was then that Harry realised that he needed Snape; that it was no longer a question of whether he wanted to be in detention or not; Harry needed to hate him.

Snape raised his eyes from the parchment that was rolled out on the desk in front of him. Blinking slowly before leaning forward in his chair, Snape's hands were grasped tightly in front of him as he said smoothly, "You are dismissed Potter."

Without a word in response Harry turned his back on Snape, his eyes fixed firmly on the back of Dumbledore's head as he followed him out of the room. Once they were once again in the corridor outside Dumbledore turned to face Harry, his face tinged with the hints of a smile as he began, "I am sure that you will not find my detentions quite as…" Dumbledore paused to find the word that would follow, "eventful as Professor's Snape's, but I am sure that you will find it informative."

Harry raised an eyebrow, yet seeing from the way that Dumbledore raised one hand, realised he would have to wait for a further explanation.

"Let's go to my office shall we," he asked, moving as if to stride away yet turning around slowly, his eyes twinkling as he added as an afterthought, "I believe that Peeves is waiting to relieve you of your bag again somewhere on the second floor. I would keep a firm hold on it if I were you."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Again, thank you for so many encouraging reviews. It really does push me on with writing this, as much as I enjoy it, I enjoy it more knowing that others are enjoying it just as much.Scardi...you must be a miond reader. Many of the issues you have raised in your review are addressed in this chapter (which, considering that I am actually one chapter a head always of what I update, I had already written). Hope this helps to clarify things a little further. However, I am mean, and whilst answering some questions, others will just pop in their place. All shall be revealed eventually though, I promise!

Time for Dumbledore to help Harry I think...with a healthy helping of angst along the way!

Disclaimer: I do not, however much I wish I did, own Harry Potter or any of the original characters of stories. This story however is mine. I'm sure J.K. wouldn't mind me borrowing her characters, as long as they remain intact.

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All around them, the portraits slept. Dumbledore, who had hardly said a word to Harry as he had lead him through the corridors towards his office, lowered himself very slowly down into the chair, before indicating that Harry should take the seat that he had found himself sitting in so many times before. Harry started as a sharp crackle pierced the silence and, turning his head, Harry was just in time to see Fawkes burst into brilliant golden flames, before disappearing into ashes beneath.

"About time too," Dumbledore said. Harry couldn't help but smile. "Now Harry, do you know why it is that you are not serving your detention with Professor Snape this evening?"

Harry avoided Dumbledore's eyes and shrugged. Dumbledore smiled warmly before waiting in patient silence for Harry's answer.

"You found out about the Veritaserum, sir." Dumbledore sighed and shook his head in disillusionment.

"I have to confess that such a radical reaction has shocked even me Harry. I would never have expected that from Professor Snape." Harry bit down on his bottom lip hard; fighting the urge to tell Dumbledore that he had always thought that he had never known Snape very well.

"However, there are two sides to every story, and I believe that the reason you had detention in the first place was because you pulled your wand on Professor Snape when his back was turned."

Harry nodded in agreement, but his voice showed every sign of defiance as he began, "But sir, I was provoked. You can ask any of the Gryffindors that were there. They'll tell you what Snape…"

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore automatically corrected, much to Harry's irritation. He looked over to where Fawkes was reforming, his head clearly visible in the smouldering ashes, stretching upwards.

"You know Harry I do believe that both you and Professor Snape are partially to blame. Professor Snape however, being both your elder and your teacher, should not have abused his position in such a way." Dumbledore sighed heavily, rubbing his hands into his weary face before continuing, "So, given the circumstances, I feel that your time with me this evening would be best spent by talking."

"Talking sir?" Harry asked confused.

"There are certain things that I feel that it is important for you to understand better," Dumbledore pushed a glass dish full of sweets which were wrapped in blue and white striped paper towards Harry, "And I do not mind confessing to you that there are certain things which I would like to clarify with you."

Harry unwrapped a sweet and popped into his mouth with trepidation, pleasantly relieved when the tingling sensation of cream soda flooded over his tongue. He watched as Dumbledore leant back in his chair, his face relaxing slightly before he began, "I believe that it is time to address the problems that have been occurring between you and Professor Snape. You have, I believed, disliked him from your very first year."

Harry nodded, dropping the sweet paper back into the bowl before responding, "Has it been that obvious then?"

Dumbledore suppressed a smile and Harry continued, "Ever since my first lesson with him he seemed to…single me out. I know that sometimes I deserve to be shouted at and punished…but with him…he seems to take pleasure in victimising me."

Dumbledore silently nodded his head, looking over to where Fawkes now sat, fully formed, feathers flashing, eyes glistening with fire.

"I just don't trust him sir. He has never given me any reason to trust him."

"Come, that is a little unfair, don't you think?" Dumbledore's eyes were on him once more, forcing Harry to remember the times that Snape had, indeed, shown himself worthy of his trust. In the first year Snape had saved Harry from falling from his broomstick when Quirrel had bewitched it, even though both he, Ron and Hermione suspected that he was behind it.

"Okay, maybe it is…" Harry's voice was small with defeat.

"Although his intentions are often unclear, I believe whole heartedly that Professor Snape would never do anything that would truly place you in the way of harm."

"But what about last night? The Veritaserum?"

"Ah," Dumbledore exhaled deeply, shifting in his chair, "As much as I trust him, I cannot ignore his actions last night. Harry, it may be difficult for you to accept or understand that sometimes the adolescent hatred becomes too much, and clouds his judgement."

"But I can't help any of that!" Harry snapped in anger, feeling as unsympathetic towards Snape as ever. "I know what happened between him and my father and…" Harry paused, knowing what name should follow, but unable to find it in him self to say it. "But I'm not my father. I had nothing to do with any of that."

"You and I both can see that very clearly, but it is harder for him. Professor Snape is a logical, rational man but when it comes to you Harry, I believe you reveal the worst in him. You remind him of a time when he was most unhappy, and, because of this, he feels that he is justified in taking his unhappiness that he felt then, and trying to make you feel it now."

Harry gulped down hard. He hadn't really ever thought about it this way before. Of course, he knew that the reason Snape hated him had a lot to do with his father. But remembering what he had seen in Snape's Pensieve last year had been painful for Harry; seeing just how his father bullied someone who was weaker than him caused Harry to feel sympathy towards Snape that he didn't want to feel.

"But it doesn't make it alright though does it? I mean…it explains why he's like that, but it doesn't make it okay."

Dumbledore said nothing as he slowly rose to his feet, stretching out his arms above his head before letting them fall back down to his side. Harry watched as he walked over to the cabinet behind which the Pensieve was hidden and open the door, sending shimmering, silver light up onto the walls around it. Dumbledore peered down into the swirling water, the light reflecting on his half moon glasses so that Harry could see nothing of his eyes. Raising his wand slowly to his head, Dumbledore seemed to forget that Harry was there entirely as a thin, silver strand of light seemed to appear and curl itself about his wand. After letting it float gently down into the Pensieve, Dumbledore turned round, once more aware of Harry's presence.

"I want you to be honest with me now, even if you find the words painful to say. Will you do that for me?"

Dumbledore's voice was soft and made Harry feel completely comfortable as he nodded in reply. He had always had a way of making Harry feel completely at ease. The reflections from the Pensieve made Dumbledore appear almost luminous with light, his grey beard appeared to glow fiercely. Turning to him now, Harry's heart tightened beneath his chest as Dumbledore cleared his throat before asking carefully, "Why did you write a letter to Sirius this morning?"

The question rang in Harry's ears; his heart remained tight as his blood seemed to freeze in his veins. It had been stupid to assume that Dumbledore would not know or find out; perhaps Hedwig had taken the letter directly to him, considering that she would have nowhere else to take it. Harry avoided Dumbledore's eyes for a long time, before he found it in himself to shrug his shoulders and say, "I don't know really…I just wanted…I just wanted to pretend I guess."

Dumbledore's lips curled with pity as he closed the doors to the cabinet once more. He turned to Harry, his eyes soft with sympathy as he spoke in tones of warmth, "I will not pretend to understand what his loss has done to you Harry. I myself have been shocked at your determination to move on. I am concerned that you are not allowing yourself to show the sadness you undoubtedly must feel." Harry had been staring fixedly at Fawkes ever since Dumbledore had started speaking; watching the way the phoenix seemed to be examining Harry closely. Harry closed his eyes when he felt Dumbledore place a hand on his shoulder, his mind swimming in the blackness that sped across his eyes.

"It would not make you weak Harry to show yourself to be grieving for him. No-one would think any less of you for allowing yourself to mourn."

"I…I can't," Harry stuttered, his eyes still tightly closed. As Dumbledore's hand left hiss shoulder, Harry opened his eyes, which had begun to sting with the threat of tears. "If I let myself do that, I've accepted it. Voldemort will have won."

"Harry," Dumbledore's voice was scarcely above a whisper, yet Harry wouldn't turn his eyes towards him. He was frightened to meet Dumbledore's eyes. "Harry, your godfather is dead."

Harry nodded in agreement, his head felt heavy as he felt himself digging his nails into the palms of his hands.

"Sirius is dead Harry," Dumbledore's voice came again, and this time Harry closed his eyes once more, his face cracking as the tears began to roll softly down his checks. Harry shook his head. He couldn't admit it…he wouldn't.

"Yes," Dumbledore's voice was a little firmer this time as Harry continued to cry silently. Before long, Harry's voice had found itself and he began to sob uncontrollably, his whole body shaking with a despair he hardly knew he could feel. Opening his eyes Harry could just about see through his tears that Dumbledore was kneeling on the floor before him.

"Sirius would not want you to close yourself off," Harry's heart contracted at the mention of his name, as he continued to shiver as the sadness coursed through him.

"I…I can't…I can't," Harry repeated over and over, rocking backwards and forwards, shaking his head against everything Dumbledore was saying.

"Your ability to love is what makes you human Harry. Despite all that has happened to you in your lifetime, you are still able to allow those closest to you to penetrate your heart, and inspire feelings that Voldemort has never known. If you loose that Harry; if you give yourself over to bitterness and hate, then all hope of defeating Voldemort will be lost. You must accept Sirius' death."

"I can't forgive him!" Harry cried hotly, tears spilling down over his cheeks, crying now as he had never cried before. His green eyes were fixed on Dumbledore's face as he continued, his voice shaking with sobs and uncontrollable fury, "I can't forgive him for leaving me! Why did he have to leave me? Why couldn't he have just stayed alive?"

Dumbledore placed his hands on Harry's knees and almost at once, the convulsions that had seized Harry seemed to stop. He was still crying, although the hysteria that had possessed him seemed to vanish instantly; he no longer felt as if his soul was splitting in two. Taking a deep, steady breath Harry managed to stop his sobs merging his words as he said, steadier than before, "We'd only just found each other. He was the first person in my life to feel like family to me; and he was taken away."

"The love you felt towards him, and the love he felt for you will never fade. Even though he is gone, that will never be forgotten. The one's we love never really leave us."

Harry nodded, sniffing as he wiped his cheeks, breathing steadily once more. Dumbledore stood up, dusting down his robes.

"Off you go now Harry."

"Sir?" Harry's voice was strained with confusion.

"We have discussed all that I felt we needed to. I feel that it would be more constructive if you left now and spent the rest of your time this evening confiding all that you have been hiding in Mr Weasley and Miss Granger."

Harry slowly rose to his feet, his eyes red and bloodshot, his whole body felt purged, drained of the tears he had cried. As he walked back along the corridors towards Gryffindor Tower, Harry felt as if some enormous pressure that had been building up inside of him from the beginning of term had suddenly left him. He felt dizzy and light headed as he walked up the stairs to his room finding, to his surprise, that it was empty. Falling to his knees without thinking, Harry found the package that he had concealed beneath his bed, unwrapping it quickly to reveal the mirror beneath.

This time he fought the urge to whisper his name into it. Instead, after squeezing it one last time in his palm, he strode swiftly over to the window and flung the mirror out into the cold night air. For a moment, the mirror spun slowly, the pale moon above reflected in the smoky glass, before it plummeted downwards, disappearing out of Harry's sight before smashing on the ground below.

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Well, what do you guys think? I really tried to hint at many of the things that are yet to happen not only in this story, but also HBP. Tell what you think. 


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks once again to all who reviewed. I can't believe some were nearly moved to tears. And thanks for the constructive criticism. It is all taken on board believe me.

Angsty, but also fun this bit. Time for some interaction between the three friends; Harry has been neglecting them of late. Hope you enjoy! Ron and Hermione tension to boot. More discussions about whats up with Snape...the plot thickens!

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Don't sue

Enjoy!

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Outside, the rain had begun to fall, drumming violently down. It had not been long since Ron had emerged, his face as dark as thunder as he mumbled hotly under his breath, not doubt the remnants of yet another argument. He had thought Harry still in detention, and was therefore shocked to find Harry sitting cross legged on his bed, a blanket pulled tightly around his shoulders. By the way he had asked him Ron hadn't even hesitated in going to get Hermione from where she sat in the common room bellow, no doubt anxiously pouring over her Transfiguration essay, muttering about Ron. Now, for the first time in weeks, the three friends were sat together; Ron and Hermione silently anticipating what Harry had to say. He opened his mouth, but the words froze on his lips and, suddenly overcome with the guilt of hiding things from his best friends for so long, he turned his eyes away from them.

"Come on mate," Ron began reassuringly, throwing an arm about Harry's shoulder and giving him a quick squeeze, "It will make you feel loads better. Won't it?"

Hermione nodded silently, he face almost grave as she began earnestly, "We've been worried about you for weeks, but we didn't want to say. We didn't know whether to push you or not."

"It's okay," Harry looked up at his friends and managed a thin smile, "I know." He hesitated, the smile disappearing as quickly as it had appeared as he began in less confident tones than before, "I have to talk to you both. I haven't been telling you everything lately."

"We thought as much," Ron answered a little too quickly for Harry's liking. Hermione shot him a warning glance before directing at Harry, "Go on Harry, we're listening."

Harry took a deep breath and began to tell them everything. He found it much easier than he had anticipated telling them all about Snape and the Veritaserum; about the questions that he had asked about his parents and the way Harry had reacted when Snape had smiled. Both Ron and Hermione gasped when he told them of Snape's smile; Hermione clutched a hand over her mouth and Ron, who had been shaking his head, muttered with controlled anger, "How could he? How could he?"

He told them all that happened this evening; how he had overheard Dumbledore reprimanding Snape and voicing his concerns about his role in the Order. He spoke of what happened in Dumbledore's office; how he had tried to make Harry better understand the hatred which existed between them. Yet he stopped short of telling them about the letter to Sirius, and the way he broke down in Dumbledore's office and instead waited for either Ron or Hermione to speak.

"You should have told us about the Veritaserum," Hermione spoke first, her voice firm but not pushy, "We could have gone to McGonagall, or Dumbledore…"

"But he knew anyway," Harry interrupted, "He found out anyway."

"Yeah about that Harry," Ron's voice wavered with uncertainty, "How did Dumbledore find out?"

Harry's eyes suddenly became filled with sorrow as he looked into the faces of his friends; faces filled with concern. He gulped down hard, realising for the first time in months that he had been so consumed with his desire to deny Sirius' death, he had forgotten all that was important to him; all that was still alive. Dumbledore had been right; Sirius would have never wanted Harry to be like this. He had always known just how important Ron and Hermione's friendship had been to him, and he had loved them as he had. It had been wrong of Harry to use Sirius as a reason to shut himself off from his friends for so long; Sirius would not have wanted that.

"I think he must have read my letter," Harry replied eventually. Both Ron and Hermione's eyes narrowed in confusion and he sighed, avoiding their bemused faces as he continued, "I sent a letter this morning…a letter to Sirius…"

Without saying a word, Ron once again squeezed the arm he had left around Harry. Hermione, after brushing her hair out of her face, leaned forward and placed her hands on Harry's knees just as Dumbledore had done.

"I didn't think Hedwig would take it," he continued, knowing that both his friend's were allowing him this opportunity to speak. "I don't even know why I sent it…I think I just wanted to pretend he was still there to listen. I was surprised when she took it. I think she must have taken it to Dumbledore."

Hermione nodded before she asked, "Did you think we didn't know that you were trying to talk to Sirius?"

A wave of shock hit Harry hard as his eyes darted between the faces of his friends. Ron seemed to have paled slightly before he mumbled, "I heard you sometimes…saying his name at night. At first I thought you were dreaming but I saw you with that mirror…" Ron paused, feeling the way Harry's body had gone completely rigid against him.

"Why didn't you say earlier?" Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, and Hermione's voice was soft as she answered, "We didn't know how. We didn't know whether or not it was something you were ready to talk about…"

"We don't think you're weird or anything," Ron suddenly blurted out. Despite himself, Harry felt his lips curling into a smile.

"I'm not exactly normal though am I?"

Ron seized on this opportunity to lighten the mood.

"You're more normal then Loony Lovegood; she's absolutely barking. I think she's actually got worse over the summer."

"Her name is Luna," Hermione stressed angrily at Ron, before turning her attention back to Harry. "Will you talk to us now though? No more secrets?"

Harry nodded and Hermione grinned and launched herself at him, her arms flinging out to wrap themselves round both Harry and Ron, as she forced them back down on the bed. Harry laughed; the first, genuine, whole hearted laugh he had laughed for what seemed like months, as Hermione's hair swept across his face. This laughter was only doubled when he heard Ron yelping beside him, "Gerra off Hermione! Gerra off!"

Smiling, Hermione scrambled backwards, allowing both Ron and Harry to sit back up. Ron's face was scarlet as he clutched between his legs, wincing as he said breathlessly, "Bloody hell you should really watch that. If you have damaged my chances of having children…"

Both Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes.

"You know, this really explains a lot of things…" Hermione sat with her back against one of the bed posts, as Ron still blew hotly out of his mouth, his face screwed up in pain. "For one thing it explains Neville's perfect Potions score."

"I don't understand…"

"Don't you see Harry? Dumbledore is concerned about Snape. He thinks he's doing too much for the Order, and it is affecting his role as a teacher. He made a mistake with Neville's mark…it had to be a mistake…"

"I bet that makes you feel a whole lot better." Hermione shot daggers at Ron who, just to reiterate his point, began to yelp dramatically again.

"But we still don't know what it is Snape is doing, do we?"

"Oh Ron, isn't it obvious?" Ron shrugged, looking in Harry's direction who, in turn, shrugged also. Hermione sighed and, after shifting forwards slightly, she replied, "He's a spy."

Of course Harry thought; why hadn't he realised this before? It had occurred to him obviously, yet he had never really thought about it at length. This was why he had seemed to be exhausted lately; why he had been making mistakes with his marking. He was spying, just as he had before.

"But how does Dumbledore know that he's really working with us?" Hermione said nothing in response. This had been a well travelled train of thought in the past. "I'm being serious though," Harry continued, his voice becoming hot with frustration. "He has the dark mark…he was a Death Eater before, is that something that can just be forgotten? Can he really just convert and come over to our side that easily?"

Ron shrugged. Hermione gave a toss of her head before replying, "I don't know, but it works in our favour, doesn't it? I mean that's what the Order needs, someone who can just seem to slip back into their old ways, and Snape is perfect for that."

"Harry has got a point though. I mean…I get that it's useful and everything, but how can we really be sure he's on our side and not on…and not on…" Ron stopped and shuddered, refusing to say the name.

"We never will know for sure," Hermione conceded, "But we know that Dumbledore trusts him Harry. Shouldn't that be enough?"

Harry shrugged. It should be enough, he thought to himself. Even after tonight when Dumbledore had tried to make him better understand the sort of man Snape was, he still found it impossible to trust him. Maybe it was because his father's son; maybe it was because he alone had been there to see Snape's reaction when they spoke about his mother's death. There was just something deep down inside of Harry that seemed to scream doubt no matter how many times Dumbledore reiterated that he trusted Snape; and that Harry should too. Maybe it was because in some way Harry blamed Snape for what had happened to Sirius. He had taunted him, tormented him as he enjoyed tormenting Harry, making Sirius more impatient to leave the Headquarters and do something useful for the Order. Whatever it was, he would never trust Snape; it went against what he felt in his heart to do so.

"Dumbledore is right though," Harry answered finally, "He does look tired. I mean he looks even more pale and gaunt than usual."

Ron sniggered.

"This isn't funny Ron. Whatever it is that is having this affect on Snape, it can't be good. Not for the pupils, not for the Order, not for anyone."

"Are you telling me," Ron's mouth had actually fallen open in disbelief, "that you actually feel sorry for him?"

Hermione shrugged. "All I'm saying is that maybe we shouldn't judge him too harshly from now on. I mean none have us really have any idea the kinds of things he has been doing…that he has to do."

Harry was about to nod in agreement, but was prevented by doing soon as Ron retorted sharply, "Have you forgotten about the questions he asked Harry about his parents? The way he reacted when he asked questions about Harry's mum? How can you sympathise with him?"

"It's alright Ron, I don't think Hermione meant…"

"No, no it's not alright!" Ron's voice was shaken, and his skin had turned the darkest shade of red Harry had ever seen as he continued hotly, "I don't give a rats arse what that greasy git is doing for the Order, what he did to Harry was completely out of line! I can't actually believe you're defending him!"

"But Ron," Hermione's voice was soft and Harry saw that all her previous conviction had evaporated from her face, "I never meant to…I never meant…"

"You never do, do you?" he snapped back, dropping down off of Harry's bed before flopping down on his own. Harry went to open his mouth, to offer some words of comfort to Hermione who looked close to tears. Quickly, she flicked her head in Harry's direction and with an air of false confidence she managed to say, "Goodnight Harry," before leaving the room.

After Hermione had left, Harry stared at the shape of Ron laid flat out on his bed for a long time; hearing Ron as he tapped his foot anxiously against one of the posts of his bed.

"Don't you think you were a little harsh just now?" Harry asked tentatively. Ron continued to stare up into his canopy. "I mean…I don't think she meant anything by it…you know she just likes to see things from every point of view."

For the longest of moments, Ron said nothing, his whole body rigid as he stared blankly upwards. Eventually, Ron turned to face Harry, lying on his side with his head propped up on one hand before he answered, "Maybe I over-reacted but I just think that it's wrong of her to defend him. Especially after the way he's been making you feel. She should be a better friend than that."

"I really don't mind so much now I've told you," Harry's voice was earnest as he continued; "I don't want my two best friends falling out because of me."

"Oh…well…" Ron's voice had suddenly lost the anger it had held before, which was now replaced with a bumbling uncertainty. Once more he flopped backwards onto his back, and Harry could hardly decipher what he said as he spoke the words quickly, "Itsnotreallyaboutyou."

Of course it's not Harry thought to himself, as he lay backwards on his bed just as Ron was doing, staring up at the patterns the falling rain outside made across the ceiling. But if there was a time to push the matter of Hermione and Ron, Harry decided that now was definitely not it. He raised his head slightly to see Ron muttering incoherently to himself, before silently chuckling, allowing his head to fall back onto his pillow as he listened to the rain falling outside.

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Well, I humbly await your reviews. Thanks for sticking with this and being so encouraging! I really appreciate every little bit of feedback I get!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks for the great reviews! I know Snape is just one of these characters that the more unclear about his intentions you are; the more you want to know about him!

Unfortunately, this chapter is going to be frustrating for those who are reading. Read on and you shall see why! Ron/Hermione stuff thrown in for good measure. When will they get stuff sorted?

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry, or any of his friends. This story is mine though, so no need to sue.

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"I should never have argued with her last night," Ron said before his head disappeared beneath his jumper, only to reappear again moments later. Harry said nothing in response as he tied his shoelaces, mentally going over the things he had to take for his lessons today. "If we hadn't of argued she would have helped me with the conclusion to my essay…had to do it on my own." Ron shook out his robes before swiftly pulling them on, juggling the books he had in arms. "I bet it's awful…" Suddenly, his face lightened as his eyes were drawn to Harry's books that were piled on his bedside table.

"Don't suppose I could take a look at yours could I?" Harry's eyes turned to where Ron was looking.

"I didn't have to do the essay remember? McGonagall let me off because of Quidditch."

Ron groaned, running his hands through his red hair before burying his face in his hands. Harry slid off his bed and walked over to where Ron was standing.

"It won't be that bad…McGonagall's not that hard a marker…"

"That's not what I'm thinking about," Ron's voice was close to a whine; his face had turned a shocking shade of grey, "I'm just thinking about her reaction when I get it back. That self-satisfied, smug, I-knew-I-was-right face. I don't think I can bare it Harry."

"You know Ron…" Harry began slowly, testing the water before broaching the subject. "You don't think that you…that you…erm…" Go on say it, a voice inside his head was shouting. _You know Ron, you don't think that you fancy Hermione?_ Yet Ron had suddenly returned to a deep shade of pink, his eyes instantly narrowed in suspicion, waiting for Harry to finish.

"You don't think that maybe McGonagall will be lenient?" Harry suddenly said, completely avoiding the question he was dying to ask. At once, Ron's face relaxed as he turned away from him, looking into the mirror and attempting to comb his hair with his fingers.

"Are you mad? This is McGonagall we're talking about. Besides, she's really coming down hard on me this term. Seems to think I have an undiscovered talent for Transfiguration."

Harry laughed, "Has she actually seen the way you are in lessons. No offence Ron, but you are pretty…"

"Hopeless I know," Ron turned round, and, from what Harry could see, there was no great difference to his hair. "But she seems to have got it into her head that I'm just not applying myself."

"Do you think that could have anything to do with the amount of help Hermione gives you on your essays?"

Ron's face dropped, his brow furrowed as he replied, "I never thought about that."

* * *

For the first half of their Transfiguration lesson, Hermione ignored Ron completely. McGonagall had informed them for about the millionth time this term how important it was that they gave Transfiguration their complete and undivided attention. Now that they were N.E.W.T students, everything would be stepped up; the transfigurations they would be asked to perform would be more complex, and the homework they would receive would demand their utmost concentration. When McGonagall said this Hermione twitched, avoiding Ron who had been trying his hardest to attract her attention since they had entered the room.

Harry gazed down at text book that was open in front of him and ran his finger down the page. _For a complete and successful transfiguration, the mind must be free of all thoughts except those regarding the form one wishes to take. If one considers the case of Sir Phineas Forsythe (1817-1890)…_ Harry's eyes left the page and once again returned to Ron and Hermione. Hermione was bent so low over her desk that her hair obscured her face from view as she read. Ron seemed to be trying to catch a glimpse of her face, every now and again he looked over at McGonagall to make sure she was far enough away not to hear him speak.

"Herm…Hermione," Harry heard Ron say softly, his eyes still fixed on where McGonagall was pacing on the opposite side of the classroom. Hermione said nothing, her eyes still fixed on the book in front of her. "I just wanted to say…well I just wanted to apologise I guess…for last night and everything."

Harry grinned, his eyes scanning the next sentence _as we can see Sir Phineas had hardly the time, or the inclination to put his full concerntration on the transfiguration at hand _before he turned his eyes once more to where Ron and Hermione were sitting.

"I didn't mean to make you upset," Ron's voice was soft and gentle, and for a moment Harry thought that maybe, at last, they were getting somewhere. Yet this feeling was short lived and, almost as quickly as this hope had appeared, he found it once again plummet down into his stomach. Hermione flicked her head upwards, her hair tossing backwards as she snapped, "Who said you made me upset?"

"Well I…" Ron was taken aback by this, his voice immediately lost its softness as he continued, "Oh come on, you were virtually crying last night."

"Believe it or not Ron Weasley," Harry winced, knowing that what was following could not be good if she had used his full name, "You are the last person in this world that could make me cry!"

"Oh yeah, I suppose you save your tears for Krum."

_Wrong response, bad response_ Harry thought, starting as he saw McGonagall throw him a warning glance, before once again turning his eyes to the text _unfortunately when it came for the opportune moment, Sir Pineas' relations found it virtually impossible to distinguish him from the common household…_

"Why do you always have to do this?" Harry heard Hermione hiss without taking his eyes from the page. "I've told you a hundred times Ron, everything that happened between me and Krum…we were just friends!"

"Then why don't I believe you?" Ron snapped back, oblivious to the fact that their voices had escalated to such a level that all who were sitting around them had stopped reading, and had turned their attention towards them.

"That's because you're an idiot!" Two girls that were sitting directly behind Harry sniggered. Ron snapped his head round in there direction scowling at them, hardly noticing Harry was there as he turned back round to Hermione.

"Did you just call me a…a…"

"Yes I called you an idiot because that's what you are!" Harry was shocked to see Hermione so red; her eyes were fuming and her body quaked. She had stood up (to be met by gasps by all around) and, completely unaware that McGonagall had begun to walk towards where she and Ron were sitting, began to shout, "You're an idiot, and I'm even more of an idiot for…"

"Miss Granger!" Hermione stopped, the redness draining from her face as she turned to face McGonagall. "What on earth do you think you're doing, screaming like a banshee in my class?" Hermione's lips moved, but no words escaped them. McGonagall turned her attention to Ron, who suddenly found himself absorbed in the waving photograph of Sir Phineas Forsythe.

"And you may well hang you head in shame Mr Weasley, especially after your lack commitment to these classes of late. Now, before I am forced to punish you both with detention, I suggest you remain silent for the rest of the lesson. If you find yourselves unable to concentrate sitting next to each, I suggest that one of you moves."

Without saying a word, Hermione gathered her quill, parchment and books and slipped out from behind her desk and moved to the back of the classroom. Harry sighed as he watched her go. Just as things seemed to be getting somewhere between the two of them, they ruined everything by arguing. Maybe it was time for Harry to do something about it. Maybe it was time that he took things into his own hands.

* * *

"Saw that little argument your mud-blood girlfriend had with Weasley," Malfoy sneered, leaning against the wall of the narrow corridor, completely blocking Harry's way. He had been unable to catch up with either Ron or Hermione after Transfiguration; both had stormed off in opposite directions, forgetting that at least one of them should wait for him.

"Don't you talk about Hermione like that Malfoy," Harry's voice was dangerous; every inch of it a threat.

"Don't think there could be something going on, do you? Don't think they could be…" Malfoy inserted a repulsive arch of the eyebrow to imply what followed. Harry's voice was dead pan as he replied, his eyes fixed on Malfoy's face, "For one thing Hermione is not my girlfriend. And another…you shouldn't judge others by your own standards."

"What is that supposed to mean?" All mockery had left Malfoy as he pushed his chest out, forcing Harry to take a step back, finding him self pinned between Malfoy and the wall.

"I'm just saying," Harry articulated very slowly, "that not everyone is like you when it comes to stuff like that."

"How dare you speak to me like that!" Malfoy spat his face suddenly hot and contorted, "Just because the only thing you have to compare it to is your pathetic relationship with Cho last year. Not exactly the Casanova, are we?"

Malfoy had intended this to hurt Harry, but in truth, Harry could not care less. In private he cringed about the time he spent with Cho, but he never regretted it. Girls didn't seem to figure as highly on Harry's list of priorities as they did for other boys. He always put it down to the fact that he always seemed to have much more important things on his mind.

"Where are your babysitters?" Harry responded, completely ignoring Malfoy's last comment, his eyes scanning the length of the corridor. He smiled mercilessly at Malfoy. "Don't you usually need them around to back you up?"

Malfoy was livid as he leaned forwards, his chest pressed up against Harry's, his breath hot with fury on his face as he hushed angrily, "I'm warning you Potter, don't tempt me."

"Going to jinx me?" Harry taunted, steadying himself on his feet as he saw Malfoy reach inside his robe for his wand. Malfoy paused, his eyes fixed on Harry's as he said, "I haven't forgotten what you did to my father. You're going to pay Potter."

"Why not now?" Harry found himself pushing Malfoy further than he meant to, feeling unusually strong as he looked into Malfoy's uncertain eyes, "There's no-one around. Go on…I dare you!"

In one swift movement, Malfoy had drawn his wand and had pressed it against Harry's temple. Harry closed his eyes and waited, feeling the way Malfoy's chest rose and fell heavily against his own. Harry knew Malfoy wouldn't dare…he was too much of a coward.

"Mister Malfoy." A cold voice shattered the tension between them and as he felt Malfoy lower his wand, Harry opened his eyes to see Snape standing at the end of the corridor, his arms folded across his chest. Harry heard Malfoy gulp as he took a step back, releasing Harry from his place against the wall. Harry was panting as Snape quickly covered the ground between himself and the two boys, robes flowing out silently behind him, his black eyes fixed on Malfoy.

"I am very disappointed in you," he began, his voice calm as Malfoy studied his feet. "Threatening Potter with jinxes is not the way to go about things, do I make myself clear?" Malfoy nodded and Snape turned his attention to Harry. He expected to be shouted out, to have points deducted from Gryffindor at least. But Snape's face was almost serene as he examined him and, without taking his eyes from his face, he said, "As much as it pains me to do this, I cannot let this slide. Ten points from Slytherian."

Harry gasped, Malfoy's jaw opened in disbelief as he gaped at Snape.

"But…but sir!" Snape, whose eyes remained fixed on Harry, didn't even flinch as he said, "That will be all Draco."

Malfoy's eyes darted to Harry's face, then back to Snape's, as he found himself unable to move. At long last Snape blinked, finally breaking eye contact with Harry.

"You may return to your classes." Malfoy staggered backwards, shaking his head as he left Harry and Snape alone.

"You will be serving your detention with me this evening Mister Potter." Snape's face was completely impassive as he spoke. "I believe you found your detention with Professor Dumbledore…informative?"

Dumbstruck Harry nodded, unable to believe that Snape had just deducted points from his own house, without taking any at all from Gryffindor. For the first time in Hogwarts history Harry thought, he had actually been fair. Snape took a step back, allowing his arms to relax down at his sides before saying coolly, "I expect to see you at eight Potter. Do not be late."

"N…no sir," Harry managed to say and, without saying another word, Snape left Harry in a complete state of shock, standing frozen in the corridor.

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What the hell is going on? What am I playing out writing that? Out of character...not where I'm heading (evil laugh). Please let me know what you think! 


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thank you for the reviews, and welcome to new readers! I'm glad you stumbled across this and decided to give it a chance. I'm really sorry if my plot is seeming lost at the moment, and this is frustrating some. Believe me, I don't want this frustration to stop anyone from enjoying the story. I have now actually finished writing this story entirely, so I know how it ends. Trust me when I say it all comes together in the end; everything is explained away. However, it is a few chapters away yet, and this chapter is even more unusual in the way Snape is acting. But I ask you to please stick with it and I promise you will get what you're looking for.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry or the other characters, I merely write them in a way that I like. I have nothing to do with their intial creation. Please don't sue.

* * *

As Harry hovered outside of Snape's door, pacing nervously backwards and forwards; every now and again pausing as if he was going to knock at the door, but then thinking better of it, he once again heard Ron exclaim in his head,

"He did what!" Ron had spat peas out across the table when Harry had told him that night at dinner, face aghast. "I don't believe it…he would never!"

"He did…I was there Ron…it definitely happened…"

Ron's face remained frozen as he turned to see Snape, sitting at the head table, patiently listening to whatever Professor Trelawney was saying.

"But he can't of….it just goes against…well everything!" Harry nodded in reply as he chased the last few peas around his plate with his fork.

"Bloody hell, he must really have lost it to take points from his own house. Maybe Hermione had a point." As soon as he had spoken, Ron snapped his mouth closed. Harry seized on this opportunity and asked, "Have you spoken to her since this morning?"

Ron shrugged, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice before answering sulkily, "She's been ignoring me. I don't know why she should be the one throwing a strop. I mean, she was the one who called me and idiot in front of everyone."

"Ron," Harry began slowly, keeping his eyes firmly on Ron's face for any signs of over-reaction. "You know the Hogsmeade trip on Saturday?"

"Whaboutit?" Ron mumbled through mashed potato.

"Well, I've been thinking…" Harry paused and took a deep breath. It was now or never, "I was thinking you could take Hermione."

"But she'd be coming with us anyway." Inwardly, Harry sighed. He would have to spell it out.

"What I meant was that _you_ could take Hermione." The stress worked and Ron suddenly stared fixedly at Harry, his face almost unmoving as he said, "Harry, do you mean…well…like a _date_?"

"Well I," Harry hesitated, watching Ron's face very carefully as he continued, "Don't you think it's a good idea?"

Ron was blushing hard as he shrugged dismissively. Yet for a few brief seconds Harry thought Ron was going to agree. For a moment Ron seemed to be thinking it over; processing the idea in his head. This soon was over however when Ron turned away from Harry and shouted across the table, "Hey Seamus, lets have a look at the _Daily Prophet_!"

Harry's heart leapt into his throat as Snape flung open the door; his hair hung limply, framing his face; his voice was cold and rigid as he said, "Come in Potter."

Silently, Harry entered, jumping as the door to the dungeon slammed shut behind him. He followed Snape up the centre of the room before taking the seat that Snape pointed out, placing his bag on the desk behind him.

"As you can see there are a number of school text books that need to be re-covered," Snape waved his hand in the direction of the cardboard box that was on Harry's desk. "The muggle way of course…" Snape flicked up his robes behind him before taking his seat. "And I would appreciate it if you could do so as quietly as possible as I'm sure you can see…" Harry looked at the number of scrolls that littered Snape's desk, "I have a great deal to be getting on with."

"Yes sir," Harry said quietly, lifting four or five text books out of the box and placing them in front of him. He had various types of glue, paper and sticky tape to help him, but somehow Harry knew that however bad the books looked now, they would look a hundred times worse when he had finished with them.

He was right. Looking down at the book he had just attempted to repair he found that the paper he had pasted over the front had wrinkled and bunched in the centre; half the pages had become glued together in the process. Harry sighed, raising his eyes to Snape, who was consumed with his marking. There was something very different about Snape this evening Harry thought, peeling the dry grey glue off his fingers. Last time when he had been in this room Snape had been bitter, vindictive; his eyes flashing with that characteristic malice that only Harry could inspire. Tonight however, Snape looked tired, bringing a thin hand to his mouth to conceal the yawns he was making more frequently. Leaving the quill hovering above the parchment, Snape leant back into his chair, rubbing his eyes before noticing that Harry had stopped working and was now looking at him.

Something inside Harry flipped as his eyes locked onto Snape's black, cold stare. His mind was suddenly full of Dumbledore's words about understanding why it was Snape was the man he was; the things that he had seen and been through. He once again heard Hermione's words of sympathy (words which had clearly infuriated Ron); how she had tried to get them both to not judge Snape too harshly. Now as he looked at the man in front of him, that pale, darkly drawn man, his eyes full of black sorrow, for the first time in his life Harry almost felt sorry for him.

"I see that you are growing tired of your task," Harry started as Snape's cool tones broke the silence between them. He looked down at the three books he had managed to virtually ruin instead of repairing.

"I must confess," Snape continued, pretending that he hadn't seen the mess on Harry's desk, "that I am hardly stimulated myself." Harry said nothing, anticipating what arduous task Snape was going to give him next. Instead, Snape said nothing, raising his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, before articulating slowly, "I suppose if this weather keeps up it will be completely horrendous come Quidditch on Monday."

Harry blinked, confused. Was Professor Snape actually trying to have a normal conversation? As if he had imagined it, Harry chose to ignore it and instead turned his attention to trying to peel the sticky text books off of the desk.

"I sometimes indulge myself by thinking how different things may have been if you had been sorted into Slytherin…" No, Harry hadn't imagined it. Snape was continuing to talk, leaning back into his chair, hands folded in his lap.

"Well for one thing, Malfoy wouldn't be Seeker." Harry hadn't even meant to have spoken; the words seemed to pass his lips before he had time to stop himself. Had Snape even been talking to him, expecting him to respond? Yet to Harry's complete astonishment, Snape's lips curled slightly at the corners into the first smile he had ever seen that was completely devoid of malice.

"I think we both know Potter, that Malfoy's position on the team wasn't exactly decided on talent." Harry smiled bemused. Was this some parallel universe, where Snape deducted points from his own house and admitted that some players on his Quidditch team bought there way in?

"However, I think we can both agree that Slytherin wouldn't have been the right place for you…" Harry nodded. "It was the same for Sirius."

Immediately, Harry went rigid, his fists clenched tightly underneath the desk. How could he have been so stupid to have thought that Snape would have actually forgotten the animosity between them? Dumbledore's words of warning had obviously had little affect.

"Oh yes…I remember the stir that his being sorted into Gryffindor caused…If I remember correctly, I believe his parents appealed to Professor Dumbledore to have the decision changed."

Tentatively, Harry allowed himself to exhale, his fists beneath the desk relaxing slightly. His desire to know more momentarily caused Harry to forget to keep up his guard; to ready himself for Snape's customary bitter remarks, as he asked despite himself, "What happened?"

Snape's black eyes seemed to flit across Harry's face for a moment, gauging whether or not this question was a genuine desire for information or not.

"There was nothing to be done. The Sorting Hat's decision is final. It constitutes a binding magical contract between the pupil and the house they are sorted into. To my knowledge it is impossible to change houses once you have been sorted. I have never known it to happen before." Snape paused and with a wave of his hand caused the quill that had been hanging in mid air ever since he had stopped writing, to fall softly down into the ink well.

"Is it common?" Harry asked, a thousand questions burning just behind his lips. Snape's eyes narrowed and before he had a chance to re-think this sudden friendliness towards him, Harry pressed on, "What I mean sir…" _Had Harry just called Snape sir?_ "…is it common for the Sorting Hat to be unsure?"

"I take it that you are referring to what happened to yourself when you ask that?" Harry nodded without hesitation. This was unknown territory; neither Harry nor Snape had been here before. Snape's face darkened as the same thoughts rushed through his head. For a moment Harry thought that he had finally come to his senses and was about to throw him out of the room, but to Harry's surprise he simply shifted slightly in his chair and continued, "I believe it is entirely dependent on the character in question. When I was sorted, for example, the Sorting Hat's decision was almost immediate." As he spoke a grimace of remembrance had spread across Snape's face. "However, in your case Potter…It seems you possess a number of contradictory qualities that would be valued by either Gryffindor or Slytherin."

Snape leant forward, his greasy hair falling lankly in front of his face as he hissed softly at Harry, "I don't suppose that these sudden inquiries suggest that maybe you are having second thoughts about which house you were sorted into?"

"No…no…" Harry snapped automatically, feeling like he had just woken up as he stared, bleary eyed at Snape. "No, definitely not."

"Ah," Snape sighed, traces of amusement clearly written in his pale face, "Believe me when I say this Potter…there is no love loss there."

Harry acknowledged this comment with a small laugh. Neither spoke for a moment as wild thoughts played across Harry's mind. Maybe Snape's sudden personality change was a good thing; I mean, he could definitely live with this new, fairer side he had been displaying today. Yet as he thought this he heard Hermione's voice interrupting _"This isn't funny Ron. Whatever it is that is having this affect on Snape, it can't be good. Not for the pupils, not for the Order, not for anyone."_ Maybe it was wrong of Harry to feel relieved at this sudden change; maybe he should be more worried.

As if Snape too had snapped out the strange sense of tranquillity that had descended between them, he suddenly stood up, shaking his arms so the sleeves of his robes once again slid down to his wrists.

"That will be all for tonight Potter," Snape suddenly snapped, causing Harry too to jump to his feet. "If you just put the books back in the box and close the doors behind you." Harry stood frozen, gazing at the man who, just a few moments before, had made every effort to be civil…and pleasant.

"Just exactly what are you waiting for?" His voice was stern and cold as Harry dumped the books back in the box and turned to leave. After closing the dungeon door behind him Harry stood for a moment unmoving; brain whirring, breath held as a strange compulsion seized him to turn round and press his eye to the key hole.

Snape was standing, just as he was when Harry had left him, frozen behind his desk. Harry watched as Snape exhaled deeply closing his eyes and tilting his head backwards, blinking up at the ceiling. He was muttering to himself as Harry had noticed him doing more frequently when he thought that no-one could see, shaking his head and biting his bottom lip again and again. Suddenly Snape swept across the classroom and, after producing a key which was attached to a silver chain that was concealed with his robes, he unlocked the cabinet where Harry knew Snape's Pensieve was hidden.

Snape paused in front of it, silver light illuminating his pale and sallow face. Eyelids fluttering closed, he pressed his wand to his temple and Harry watched as the pure white thread of a memory curled its way around the wand, dangling for a moment before floating gently down into the luminous liquid. Snape seemed to watch it fall, his black eyes following it as it disappeared downwards, before taking a step backwards and slamming the door to the cabinet shut.

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Well? What do you think...please just hit that review button! 


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thank you so much for my reviews. So many have you have reviewed so faithfully and it really does make me so happy to know that you are continuing to stick with this. I can't remember who it was that suggested it, but I have now began to post this on so thank you for the advice! It has been met warmly over there too.

Right, to the chapter. I know Snape is kind of crazy at the moment but it is nearing the end of the week, which means it will be the last detention. Hopefully, all the things you have been wondering about will be revealed then. First however we have a little dream sequence for what Harry dreams the night after his latest detention. A sweet, sad little moment which (although Snape is absent) I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry or any of the other characters, books or films. I do own this story; it is all my own work and comes solely from my imagination. Please don't sue.

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Harry was somewhere he had never been before; lying on his back, the sun almost blinding him. All around felt of summer and warmth as the scent of freshly cut grass filled his nostrils. As he moved his legs he felt the blanket he was laid on bunch up around his feet, and a voice from somewhere away to his left broke the sultry silence.

"You know he really is an ugly little thing…." Harry recognised that voice. It was Sirius. All of a sudden Harry felt immobile; his whole body fell limp and useless as he turned his face to where the voice had came from. Inwardly Harry gasped to see a much younger, much handsomer Sirius gazing down at him, his eyes showed no signs of the torture Harry had grown accustomed too; and he was smiling without the burden of a man who had spent twelve years in Azkaban.

"Sirius!" Harry tried to cry out, but instead, all that escaped his lips was a series of gurgles. It was then that Harry realised why he felt like his body was numb; why he couldn't move it. This was a memory within in a dream and in this memory Harry was a baby.

Sirius grimaced fondly down at Harry, his hair falling across his face as he bent lower to inspect the baby closer. Harry's heart swelled as Sirius' face was only inches from his own…yet he couldn't cry out, or wrap his arms around his godfather's neck and hold him tightly and never let go. Harry was powerless, a spectator within his own body, within his own past. He wanted more than anything to sit up, or at least to see a glimmer of recognition in Sirius' grey eyes that would tell him that he could see that this baby wasn't really a baby at all.

None came. Sirius cocked his head to one side; a broad smile lighting up, which Harry could now see, was an extraordinarily handsome face, before he spoke again, "He obviously didn't get any of your good looks Evans…"

Harry's heart leapt as a pretty red haired woman with a warm, smiling face and green eyes appeared from somewhere out of Harry's line of vision, and sat down on the blanket opposite Sirius.

"You know you really can't call me Evans anymore…" Her voice was teasing. Sirius shook his head and, turning to face someone Harry couldn't yet see, he said, "Oh I forgot you're a _Potter_ now."

"Don't say it like that." Harry's chest tightened as he watched his father walk from where he had been concealed and fling himself down onto the ground. "You're as good as one!"

"You know…" Sirius was talking directly to Harry again, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he continued, "I really do feel sorry for you. With a father like that you don't really stand much of a chance…"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Harry's father puffed his chest out as if offended, but the way he was smiling told Harry otherwise.

"What I mean is…" Sirius articulated slowly, "what Harry needs is a real man as a role model." As he said this, Sirius winked at Harry as if he could understand.

"Actually," Harry's father shot a glance at his mother as Sirius continued to smile, "Lily and I have been talking…and well…"

"We would love it if you would agree to be Harry's godfather." As Harry's mother said this, the smile from Sirius' face disappeared.

"You're joking?"

"Well you didn't want to be our Secret-Keeper so we thought it was the next logical step." Harry's father's voice was devoid of all seriousness but Sirius, who seemed to be in a complete state of shock, was looking to Harry's mother for help.

"But I'm not exactly what anyone could a role model, am I? I mean, being someone's Godfather is a pretty big deal. Shouldn't you ask someone who is a bit more…responsible?"

"Like Remus you mean?" Harry's mother's face seemed to be full of hope, as if she were broaching a subject that shouldn't be discussed. At once a cloud seemed to have descended across Sirius' face, and Harry was shocked to hear the coldness in his voice as he replied, "I never said that."

Harry watched as his father shift uncomfortably as he said, "When are you going to stop being so suspicious Padfoot? Moony hasn't done a thing wrong…"

Sirius shrugged the question off, his eyes stormy as he stared down at Harry, speaking softly, "I'm being serious though. Are you sure you want me to do it? I don't know if I'll be any good…" He crinkled his nose and Harry felt him prod his stomach tentatively with a finger. "I'd probably…break him or something."

"Please Sirius," Harry's mother pleaded, reaching out one hand to his father, and one to Sirius. Harry's heart was a lump in his throat as he watched his father, mother and Sirius hand in hand, looking at one another warmly as the sun beat down hotly from above. With an over dramatic sigh, Sirius relented, rolling his eyes as Harry felt himself being lifted from the ground. Weightless he felt Sirius hold him, staring down into his face as he gently began to rock him backwards and forwards.

"Oh alright!" Harry's father clapped Sirius on the back as his mother planted a kiss on his cheek. With tenderness Harry could never remember him showing, Sirius lowered his lips and, after brushing them softly against Harry's forehead, he sighed, "I guess you're stuck with me Harry."

As if he had never been asleep; as if he had only blinked, Harry's eyes shot open. His heart was pounding in his ears as he felt the use of his limbs return. With a great effort he kicked the sheets from off of his legs, feeling suddenly suffocated by there weight, as he scurried upwards; back pressed against the head board, knees tucked underneath his chin.

He could still feel the traces of Sirius' lips burning against his forehead; he could still smell cut grass and feel the warm sunlight on his face. The voices of his parents seemed to still echo in his mind, hushed about the quiet of the sleeping room as whispers die on the breeze. It had been a dream Harry thought to himself, holding his legs tightly against his chest. It had to have been a dream. Harry had had dreams this vivid before; where he had felt himself looking out from some other body's eyes. Only then the dreams had been dangerous; his connection with Voldemort had caused him to see things that otherwise could have remained unknown.

This dream had been different. This hadn't been Harry in someone else; this had been Harry remembering something that had happened in the past; his past. He had been there when his parents had asked Sirius to be his Godfather. But why was he remembering this now? He had never had this dream before; he hadn't even known until his third year of Sirius' existence. What was it about tonight that had caused him to remember? What had happened to make Harry dream so vividly about that particular event?

Harry started as Ron sent one of his characteristically rattling snores through the silence of the room. He watched Ron twist beneath the sheets, sighing restlessly before settling back down to a peaceful sleep. Harry, however, would have no such luck. For the rest of the night Harry sat in bed, knees under his chin as he replayed the dream over and over in his mind. There was something in the dream that Harry was supposed to pick up on; there was something in the dream that Harry was supposed to see. Closing his eyes he would try and conjure up the vivid scene before him; the feeling of the blanket beneath him, or the way the light danced in his mother's almond shaped eyes. Yet there was nothing; nothing except fondness and affection in this memory. The playfulness between his father and Sirius, the sunlight filtering through his mother's hair; everything was peaceful and still. There was nothing in this scene that seemed out of place.

Eventually, the room began to grow pale with the beginnings of the early morning light. Harry yawned; from somewhere outside the window, a bird began to sing a shrill, soft tune at the break of day. Finally overcome with a tiredness that had gradually crept upon him, Harry allowed himself to slip back beneath the sheets, head sinking into the pillow as he stared up into the red and gold canopy above his head. It was no use, try as he might Harry could not decipher what ever it was that he was supposed to see in his dream. As he closed his eyes Harry allowed himself to relish in the memory of the sunlight of that day; the feeling of Sirius' arms around him as he held him close. For the first time in months Harry felt his mind swim happily into the realms of sleep, and just before his mind succumbed once more to the sunlight of his dream, Neville's alarm went off.

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I hope you liked that. Review and let me know what you think...the end is so close I can almost smell it! Five or so chapters to go (sniff). 


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Thank you for so many wonderful reviews! Thank you to those whoe came across from Potions and Snitches too, I really appreciated that! Well, here it is, the begining of the last detetention, and trust me when I say this is a good one! Nearly the end though...

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter apart from this story, so there is no need to sue!

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"Harry, could you please ask Ron if he could refrain from scraping his plate…some of us have work to be doing." Hermione tossed her head indignantly, sending brown hair rippling in front of her face as she disappeared once again behind _"Fleeting Fancies: The flimsy reality of Divination."_ Harry scowled, rolling his eyes in Ron's direction before Ron replied, "Harry, could you please ask Hermione if she could _refrain_ from acting like a first year."

Hermione snapped her book shut, slamming it down on the table in front of her, causing all the plates and cups to jump.

"Ron…" Harry's stomach sunk as he heard the fury barely restrained behind her voice. Like Harry, Ron had frozen, and was now staring at Hermione, who was steadying her rage by grasping a fork tightly in her right hand. "Is it too much to ask that we can stop arguing and just be friends?"

With anticipation Harry watched Ron. His face was flushed pink; the tips of his ears were burning through his red hair as he stared silently at Hermione. _That's it_ Harry thought to himself, seeing the way his face had softened, his shoulders loosing there rigidity as he allowed himself to slump on the bench.

"Well…but…what I think is…that…Hermione…erm…you did call me a…well yeah!" Harry buried his face in his hands, pressing his glasses backwards so they pinched against his nose, and shook his head. Ron, it seemed, had lost all ability to string together a coherent sentence. He didn't look up as Hermione said, "Well I'm sorry for that okay! I'm sorry I shouted at you in front of everyone. And I'm sorry if I upset you with what I said about Snape…I am just too exhausted to argue anymore!" Hermione stopped, gulping down as she stared expectantly at Ron.

Harry peeked over the top of his hands, watching Ron processing what she had said in his mind. He yelped as Harry kicked him underneath the table and, after looking bewildered for a moment, he scoffed, "What? I don't have anything to apologise for!" He couldn't take this; more arguments, more harsh words. He hadn't been able to get back to sleep after he had woken up. He had spent most of his day thinking about what it his dream had meant. He had already been scolded by Professor Flitwick for "Finding whatever it was that he was daydreaming about infinitely more interesting than Charms", and he had all but forgotten about Quidditch practice at lunch; only to be reminded by a furious Ginny half an hour after he was supposed to turn up. He had tried to sleep during his free period in the common room but had found it impossible curled up in an armchair whilst all around him Gryffindors talked and laughed.

Finally, Harry's tiredness had taken its toll; his whole body felt stiff and aching; his mind raced with a weeks worth of lessons, merging uncomfortably with visions of Snape's detentions, and the remnants of his dream. Thank god it was Friday Harry thought to him self; tonight was the last of Snape's detentions that he would have to face this week; today was the last day Hermione would be banned from the library so that she could once again avoid Ron by seeking refuge there. There was always the weekend to look forward too.

But the weekend was not coming soon enough Harry thought as he pressed his fingers to his temples. His eyes felt heavy as he blinked slowly at Ron and Hermione, who seemed to appear as if they were engaged in yet another argument; their lips were moving yet no words were being spoken. Harry could see Hermione's grip tighten about the fork in her hand, as Ron's lips formed a word that looked exceedingly like "Krum". Gradually, Harry found it impossible to mute them in his mind any longer; their voices soon escalated from breathless silence to venomous fury. Harry could feel himself being pushed; words which seemed to have swum long suppressed in his stomach seemed to all at once find their way up his throat as he jumped to his feet, sending his pumpkin juice spilling across the table in front of him, "Will you two cut it out! I can't…I won't take this anymore!"

Harry turned his eyes from Ron, whose lips had snapped shut to Hermione, who had dropped the fork and was now frozen; looking at the way Harry's eyes seemed to be burning down into her own.

"If you two won't say it then I will! Hermione…" Hermione flinched, staring at Harry whose voice didn't waver as he finished, "Ron fancies you." Hermione paled, her bottom lip trembling as she shot a glance at Ron, who was gaping at Harry open mouthed. Seamus and Neville, who were sitting close by, had lost all interest in trying to give Neville's toad Trevor a moustache, and were now starring at where Harry was standing, glaring at his two best friends.

"Now, I want you two to sort it out before I get back from detention. Do you understand?" Hermione gulped as Ron nodded mindlessly.

"Good," Harry said firmly, bending down to pick up his bag. He hesitated as he straightened up, seeing the way Hermione was flicking idly through her book as Ron stared down into his empty plate. "Well…I'll…I'll see you later." And, filled with the sudden guilt of what he had done, Harry walked out of the Great Hall and down into the dungeons.

All seemed shrouded in darkness as Harry entered the classroom; candles instead of torches were alight, flicking with what Harry could have sworn were black flames. Had he even heard Snape call for him to enter, he thought as he moved uncertainly to take his place behind one of the desks. Looking around the potions room now, which had seemed to have taken on a darker appearance than usual, Harry wasn't even sure Snape was here. He was certainly not sitting behind his desk. Maybe he had been so consumed in thinking about what he had done in the Great Hall that he had imagined hearing Snape calling sharply from within. Harry shivered as a cold breeze seemed to shudder through the room, stirring the Slytherian banner that hung from the ceiling above; sending the black flames of the candles flickering, before they steadied once more. The silence seemed so complete; the dark light so absolute that Harry began to grow uneasy, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of Snape's presence.

"Sir?" he whispered uncertainly, his voice causing one of the flames of the nearest candle to extinguish in a puff of smoke, before lighting again almost instantly. There was something wrong; this wasn't right. A coldness seemed to have become present in this room; a coldness Harry had felt before; that frozen terror that consumed him anytime a Dementor was near. The thought tightened Harry's heart. No…it couldn't be. Dumbledore would know…he would never allow it. If there was a Dementor at Hogwarts, Dumbledore would know.

Harry felt so cold though…his breath which had quickened to a rasping pace seemed to condense into puffs of moisture in the stillness of the air. Soon it would come, Harry thought to himself, the feeling that he would never be happy again. He would once again see that flash of green light; hear his mother scream and feel his scar burn. As he felt the thin, skeletal hand on his shoulder, Harry held his breath. It was too late for a Patronus…he didn't have time. He would reach for his wand and the Dementor would be upon him; drawing his soul out through his mouth and leaving behind only the pain and the suffering…

…But this was no Dementor. This hand was warmer, if only slightly than a Dementor's, and the hot, ragged breaths of whoever it was behind him, fell in waves across the back of Harry's neck.

"On your feet," Snape articulated, viciously pulling Harry's chair away from underneath him, preventing Harry from falling by keeping a tight hold on his robes. Harry found himself held fast as Snape began to drag him across the classroom, his mouth to Harry's ear as he began to hiss smoothly, "I am sure you have been confused by my varying temperament of late. I confess I myself have been at a loss to understand…a jinx perhaps?" Snape paused, his voice sadistic with fury as he continued, "Oh no Potter, it comes down to something as simple as fatigue of the mind."

Harry struggled pointlessly as Snape crushed him backwards against him, making it impossible for him to do anything but writhe pointlessly in Snape's arms.

"I knew it! I knew I couldn't trust you!" Harry managed to wheeze. Snape inhaled sharply through his teeth.

"It has never been a question of trust, as I believe Professor Dumbledore will have informed you."

"Then he's wrong, isn't he? Dumbledore is a good man…a great man…he likes to see the best in people! Even you!" Harry winced as Snape increased the squeeze, pulling him with a force Harry could have never expected across to the cabinet where the Pensieve was concealed. "I know what you are!"

"As usual your arrogance leads you to draw conclusions which cannot be proved. All you have is your own suspicions; and what good are the suspicions of a deranged child?"

Snape flung open the door to the cabinet, flooding the suffocating darkness of the room with translucent, silver light. "I know that you're a spy…a spy for Voldemort! Dumbledore may believe that you have converted, but I can't believe it. I know you're still a Death Eater! I know where you're real loyalties lie!"

Snape laughed, cruel and hard, devoid of all humour as he dragged Harry towards the Pensieve, steadying himself slightly as he lowered Harry slightly towards the swirling liquid.

"There is something I have been meaning to show you…" Snape seemed to be trembling as he spoke, overcome, as his black hair fell across his waxen face. "You seemed to so enjoy your last experience in my Pensieve."

Harry tried to dig his heels into the ground, but it was no use, they simply slid away from underneath him as Snape began to try and lower his face into the Pensieve. With all his might, Harry locked his body into place, pushing back against Snape's chest. Snape merely tightened his hold of Harry, squeezing the air out of his lungs, causing his face to grow a dangerous shade of purple.

"Come now Potter," Snape snapped saliently, removing one of the hands that had pinned Harry in place to the back of his head, taking his hair and pulling it hard. Harry yelped, his neck snapping backwards as Snape continued to speak viciously into his ear, "This is no way to repay one who merely wishes to teach." All at once, Harry felt himself being pushed forward; his face hitting the cold, misty waters. He could feel Snape's hand still grasping his hair firmly, holding him under, making sure he was submerged for long enough. It worked. Harry could feel his feet leaving the certainty of the floor of the potions room. The colours around him bled and spun, as he fell down into the memory.

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I'm sorry for the cliff hanger! What do you think? 


	13. Chapter 13

A/N:Thank you so much for the reviews. I detect an air of frustration in most of them. Sorry for the cliffy, and I'll stop now and get on with the case in hand.

Disclaimer: I don't own, so don't sue.

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It was a warm evening in this memory; the air seemed to be full of the lingering heat that had blasted down hotly during the day and now, only its remnants could be felt. Harry knew where he was, he was at Hogwarts. He was standing in the West courtyard just outside the Great Hall; a large sundial graced the centre; smooth marble benches were concealed under the alcoves that were suffocated with ivy and honeysuckle. There was no wind on this night; all was still and thick with heat, and from somewhere inside the Great Hall, Harry could hear music playing.

It was then that Harry saw him…a boy, not much older than himself, sitting all alone on one of the benches. His black hair had fallen in front of his pale face as he stared intently down at the grass that poked its way through the cracks in the slabs. His lips seemed to moving in some frantic prayer and, after a moment of watching bemused, Harry could see what he was doing. A vine had began to grow steadily round the base of the sundial, creeping and curling round at an alarming rate as it tightened round the stone. This boy was charming the vine.

Suddenly the boy stopped as one of the side doors to the Great Hall opened, and he scurried backwards to conceal himself further amongst the ivy. The music which Harry had heard so softly from before, grew louder and then softer again as the person who had exited the hall closed the door behind them. Harry watched as a girl with auburn hair and a pale green dress floated down through the cloisters like an apparition, before stopping and turning to face the dark haired boy who was peering at her from between the ivy.

Smiling warmly, the girl crossed the courtyard, and as she approached Harry's heart leapt as he realised that this girl was his mother. Her hair was softly pinned so that strands seemed to tumble effortlessly down; the green of her dress seemed to only lift the colour of her eyes.

"Playing the wallflower?" she spoke softly, hesitating someway in front of the bench, as if waiting to be invited to sit down. No such invitation came. The boy lifted his eyes, which where cold and burning black with irritation as he muttered slowly, "A little strange that you should choose to wear Slytherin colours…" This was Snape who was speaking; the younger, bitter Snape who was watching Harry's mother with something very strange flitting across his face.

Harry's mother said nothing as she sat down beside him, running her finger tips over the fabric of her dress before she answered absently, "Red and gold have never really been my colours…" She turned to face Snape who had once again turned his silent attentions to the vine, her eyes flashing with humour as she continued, "I think it must have something to do with my complexion."

Snape said nothing in response at first, his eyes fixed on the vine which had now began to spurt glossy black thorns. Yet as if he couldn't help himself he said, "I don't know why you should have come with _him_. I never thought he'd wear you down."

"You know what Severus?" Something about the way his mother said his name caused Harry to shudder, and the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. Snape stopped muttering the charm under his breath and turned to face Harry's mother. "Neither did I."

Harry continued to watch, only one question repeating itself over and over in his mind; why had Snape chosen to show him this particular memory? Transfixed, Harry saw the way Snape's pale face seemed to stiffen as he spoke, "Can't say I didn't expect any different. I never took you as someone with any real resolve." Harry balled his fists at his sides; how dare he speak to her like that? Yet Harry's mother seemed to take his cutting comment in her stride, sighing softly as she looked up into the purple twilight sky.

"I didn't want to like him…I'm not sure if I do really…I must though, I'm here with him aren't I?"

Snape's frozen face seemed to lighten as he replied, "If I am not mistaken, you're sitting here with me."

Harry's mother smiled at Snape, her almond shaped eyes sparkling as she spoke, "You know sometimes I could almost mistake you as a decent human being."

Snape scowled as she said this, his eyes darkening as he made the thorns on the vine grow sharper. "Then you are very much mistaken Lily. I am no one anyone would ever want to know. I believe I am much happier this way; alone. Or at least I was until you interrupted me."

Harry watched as his mother looked for the first time at what Snape had been so absorbed with. She sighed something under her breath, her eyes fixed on the vine. All at once Harry could see buds of white burst in place of the thorns, small at first, but then growing steadily; their petals unfolding slowly in the dusky light. Harry's eyes snapped away to see Snape's reaction, and was surprised to see him smiling secretly to himself.

"That is just like you Evans. Why do you insist on displaying your talents in such a redundant way?"

"Just because they are beautiful," Harry's mother began, and Harry watched the way that the white flowers grew and almost dazzled in the half-darkness, "Doesn't mean that they are redundant."

Harry heard the door to the Great Hall being opened as music once again broke the quiet of the evening. Harry watched as a figure strode swiftly out, being closely pursued by another, who seemed to be shouting words that Harry couldn't hear. As they disappeared into the darkness of the cloisters Harry turned to see his mother and Snape sitting together, staring at the vine which was now covered with shimmering white blooms.

"It's nearly over…" Snape said smoothly, cold against his mother's words of warmth. Harry's mother lifted her head to survey all that was about her, her eyes drifting over to where Harry was stood on the opposite side of the courtyard.

"I can hardly believe it's been seven years. Seven years of my life has been spent at this school; studying the same subjects under the same teachers. I wonder if I'll miss it." She turned her eyes to Snape who had been watching her speak, "Will you?"

His face was grave with amusement as he answered slowly, "Oh yes, how would I not miss the endless days of insufferable torment?"

"Well, when you put it like that…" A smile then seemed to pass between Snape and Harry's mother that hurt Harry to witness; it was warm, unflinching and full of an affection that Harry could never have imagined. He knew that this smile on Snape's lips would soon be replaced with the smile he had displayed when he had spoken of his mother's death; and he found this too unimaginably awful to contemplate.

Suddenly the two figures that had left the Great Hall moments before seemed to be arguing; their voices raised and fraught, yet their words were lost in the night. Snape had clearly not paid attention to what was being said. Harry's mother however had seemed to have been broken out of her smile with Snape and was now straining her ears to hear. Harry watched as one of the shadowy silhouettes took a step backwards to rid itself of the other, who seemed to be clinging desperately to his robes.

Everything became confused then as Harry watched his mother spring to her feet, rushing over to the cloisters where one of the figures seemed to have fallen back on the floor. In vain, Harry strained his eyes to see past his mother who was stooping down to help the figure up. For one tantalising moment Harry saw a boy, a breathtakingly handsome boy stand, and dust off his robes before turning his head as if he saw Harry standing in the courtyard. Despite the darkness Harry could see the dark hair, the stormy eyes, and the face that seemed red with fury as he gazed blankly into the evening light. Harry recognised this boy. This boy was Sirius.

Harry gasped as he felt the memory slip away as Snape pulled him back into the present. He spluttered; the luminous liquid seemed to have filled his lungs as he had been submerged, and now the vivid images of what he had just seen pulsed through his veins. Snape's hand yanking back on his hair seemed to pull him sharply back into reality and, with a voice that was shaking, Snape hissed, "Did you enjoy that? Did you enjoy being in the past once more? Your mother was quite something wasn't she? That little trick she did on the vine. Yes, I will tell you now, Lily's skills never failed to impress."

Harry could say nothing; the liquid coated his throat and made him feel incapable of speech. Suddenly, a loud booming seemed to crack within Harry's mind and he felt Snape tremble slightly as he turned his attention to the door.

"That was the graduation ball…it was such a warm night. There was a drought all summer…" BOOM! Again the door seemed to shudder violently against the lock, as Harry watched helplessly as someone tried to get in. Snape held him firmly in place, fingers still clutching his hair, forcing him to watch whoever it was that was going to come through the door.

"What is it Potter?" Snape purred sadistically into Harry's ear as another BOOM cracked through the room. "Don't you want to watch? Don't you want to see who it is that's come for you?"

Something about the words Snape had just spoken reminded Harry of something Voldemort had once said _I want to see the light leave your eyes_. This was it; he had come. BOOM! It had been Snape's plan all along; all week had been leading to this. BOOM! He was going to hand Harry over to Voldemort now. BOOM! This was it; it was over. BOOM! That green light, his mother's scream, his burning scar. BOOM! Harry was going to die.

BOOM! The room seemed to burst with sound as the doors flung open, filling the room with a blinding white light that extinguished all the candles. Harry felt Snape's hand leave the back of his head as he stumbled backwards a little, pulling Harry with him as he said something which sounded like a breathless "Impossible!" A glowing figure walked towards them and as Harry strained his eyes he saw to his astonishment Sirius, drenched in silver, eyes shinning walking towards them both. He began to mouth words silently to Harry, smiling warmly before turning his attention to Snape. As if he had understood the wordless instructions, Harry closed his eyes as he felt Sirius slip his arms between Harry and Snape and prise them apart. Snape fell to the floor, limbs frozen to his sides, as all was consumed in silver and white. Harry watched breathlessly as Sirius smiled, before retreating back towards the door.

"Sirius!" Harry yelled, the power of speech finally returning, as the fear of loosing his godfather for the second time seized him. The light had begun to fade. "Sirius! Don't leave me!" Yet it was too late, the face of Sirius had all but dissolved, evaporating like smoke back into the darkness. From somewhere on the floor behind him, Harry heard Snape try to move and, as he failed, he heard Snape say silkily, "Interesting Patronus."

Harry watched the silver traces of the Patronus retreat backwards slowly into the wand and, with the remnants of Sirius' warm face still clearly written on the air, he watched as Remus Lupin stepped out of the darkness, and into the classroom.

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Well? 


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Again, thank you for so many considerate and thought out reviews. (Does over a hundred reviews dance). I'm so flattered that you found the memory a well written piece, I enjoyed writing it very much. Now to address some of the points raised by some reviews. I know that I have frustrated to the point of oblivian, I know that Snape has gradually become a more and more unclear character. However, these next two chapters, should explain many questions that have been raised by this story (and about Snape in general) and will reveal that he has been IC throughout.

I have kept you all waiting for long enough I feel. So here it is, the begining of understanding, which will hopefully bring everything together and clear a few things up.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry, or any of his counterparts. I merely manipulate them and write this story (which is mine own). Please don't sue.

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"Harry, stand back," Remus said, his voice cutting through the darkness that had once again descended in the classroom. For a moment, Harry hesitated, standing frozen as he watched Remus approach, his eyes fixed on the immobile figure of Snape, who was grimacing on the floor.

"Harry, you must stand back," Remus repeated, and this time Harry obeyed. Remus swept forwards, whispering the words "_Accio wand_" before Snape's wand flew out from within his robes, and into Remus' hand. Remus turned to Harry and for the first time he could see just how much he had aged since the last time he had seen him. His sandy hair, which had always shown a fleck of two or grey, was now streaked with white; his eyes seemed deadened of their previous joy. Yet his face seemed to warm when he looked at Harry and his voice was full of affection as he asked, holding out his hand, "Your wand please."

"But…" Harry glanced down at Snape who seemed to be gradually regaining some movement in his limbs, "But what if he…"

"You must trust me…I do not think it is wise, in this instance, for you to be in possession of your wand." Reluctantly Harry handed it over and, after smiling affectionately at him one last time, Remus turned his attention back to Snape.

"A little unorthodox don't you think Severus…even by your standards. It seems that your teaching methods have become a little extreme of late."

Snape hissed as he tried to stretch out his arms, feeling the power of the jinx still lingering as he spoke, "There was really no need for such a dramatic entrance."

Remus took a step forward, his face appearing much older in the moonlight that streamed in from the high windows than Harry had ever seen.

"It is too much…it really is too much for either myself or Dumbledore to ignore any longer. Did you really think I would do nothing as you punished Harry with Veritaserum?"

"Well, well, well," Snape slowly rose to his feet as he spoke, his limbs still rigid and uncertain as he dusted off his robes. "It seems that even I can be mistaken. I believed that Potter had spoken to either Miss Granger or Mister Weasley, but it seems that he has chosen to confide in a more unreliable party."

"What do you…" Harry began angrily, starting forward only to be stopped by Remus.

"Why don't you tell dear old Remus what it was I just showed you," Snape said, his voice dangerous as he stared, as if transfixed, at Remus. Remus dropped the arm that had been preventing Harry from rushing forward and his voice was steady as he spoke, "It was a very long time ago."

"But I still remember!" Snape snapped, his face suddenly shifting from the impassive mask it usually was, his voice was full of heat as he continued, one hand grasping the side of the desk. "I remember it clearly, the way Lily made those flowers grow." Suddenly Snape stumbled forwards as if intoxicated, grabbing Remus' robes as he shook him hard. Harry staggered backwards; something about this sight struck him as familiar and prevented him from moving. Remus gasped as Snape clutched desperately to him, his eyes black, his face twisted as he said desperately, "You must believe me…You must believe me Remus. I never wanted her to die!"

"It didn't stop you did it?" Remus shot back, trying to prise Snape's fingers from his robes. "You say you didn't want Lily to die and yet you knew what Voldemort was planning. You could have come, at any point, and warned them. You could have saved them both!"

As swiftly as he had grabbed him, Snape pushed Remus backwards. Harry went to move, but Remus' voice was stern as he said, "Stay exactly where you are Harry! There is no need."

"You have never been in the presence of the Dark Lord…" Snape's voice was cold; his face was frozen as he stared through Remus as if he were nothing more than a ghost. "You have never heard him speak, or seen him move. You have never known what is to be…punished…" Snape shuddered as he said this and for a moment, Harry could almost feel his sympathy for Snape returning.

"Don't I?" Harry saw Remus' eyes grew dark and fuelled by the anger in his sadness; Harry turned to Snape and said, "I know."

"You think you know Potter!" Snape spat mercilessly, the shiver had left his voice, "You think you know what it is to feel pain….you think you know loss?"

"It's all your fault!" Harry said irrationally, "It's your fault Sirius died!" His voice wavered with fury as the words burnt at the back of his throat.

"No…" Remus' voice was strong, controlled. "You know that can't be true…"

"I'd listen to him if I were you Potter, that is, if your arrogance allows you."

"I don't care what you say!" Harry snapped at Remus, before pointing an accusatory finger at Snape, "He provoked Sirius into leaving Grimmauld Place! I was there! I heard him!"

Remus turned his tired eyes from Harry's to face Snape once more, who seemed to be struggling to compose himself on the other side of the classroom.

"You must remember that night Remus…the night of the Graduation Ball…" Snape continued to stare at the floor as he spoke, completely ignoring Harry accusations, "She looked so beautiful, do you remember?"

"Serverus…" Remus' voice was gentle; his eyes were narrowed with pity, "It was such a long time ago…"

"But you must remember what she looked like in that green dress…you couldn't help but notice. Oh no…no one could help notice how beautiful she was. Even I was not impervious to her charms."

Harry gulped hard as he once again saw his mother's face before him, smiling as warmly as she had at Snape in the memory. In his dreams he often saw his mother smiling as she bent down to plant a kiss on his forehead. Yet these dreams, however vivid at the time, seemed dull compared to the brilliance of the memory in the Pensieve. Only here his mother seemed to radiate a beauty that was almost painful; touching everything and everyone it came in contact with. Like the purity of the flowers he had watched break the sharpness of Snape's thorns, she seemed to emit an unimaginable aura that Harry had never seen from anyone else.

Snape had been staring, eyes fixed on Remus' tired eyes as he watched carefully for a reaction as he spoke, "I believe even you at one point…"

All at once Remus' face reddened, his back stiffened as he glanced first at Harry, before turning his furious face to Snape, who was smiling thinly.

"No…" Snape mused, tracing his white jaw line with the tip of one finger, "Perhaps not…she was not exactly to your _tastes_ was she?"

Harry stared at Remus, who was trembling with a fury he could barely contain; a fury Harry had never seen from the usually quiet man. Something in what Snape had just said affected Remus deeply; his amber eyes seemed to loose their glazed expression, and in a moment, they had become fiery and dangerous. Gulping hard Remus tightened his grasp on the three wands he held and, with what looked like a great effort; he managed to say in restrained tones, "We were only ever friends."

"But why," Harry began, moved to say something quickly to save Remus from the torment which was now clearly written across his face, "Why show me any of this?"

"Don't you see it yet Potter? Can you not understand?" Harry shook his head and Snape grimaced with frustration as he brought his fingers to the side of his head, and pressed his temples hard.

"Lily _Potter_ did not deserve to die! She did not deserve to die to save you…you're life was not worth her dying." Snape trembled as he stared at Harry, his eyes burning with a hatred Harry had never seen so bright. "That is why it pains me to look at you, to have you in my class, to see you living a life so oblivious of the price that was paid for you to be here now. It disgusts me that you can find in yourself to be the arrogant adolescent you have become, so sure that you deserve everything that is given to you. But I tell you now Harry Potter, you didn't deserve to live instead of her!"

"Enough!" Remus shouted as he pointed the wands at Snape. "How dare you speak to Harry as if he had a choice! There was no choice…there was never a choice for him. The choice could have been yours and yet you _chose_ to remain silent and let Lily and James die! It is more your fault than it will ever be Harry's!"  
"You speak to me of choices!" Snape almost shrieked back, his eyes bulging as he took a step towards Remus. "For years I have lived a half-life. Each day has been a lie. And still I am met with mistrust and suspicion!" He pointed at Harry who was standing well back, finding it impossible to intervene. "Even from those whose life I have sworn to protect. Despite my better judgement and personal feelings, I have strived to help in ways that others would refuse to. I have seen the darkest of things and yet I am not afraid. I am still here. Who amongst the Order can boast the same? Who!"

"You can do all that and not be able to find it in yourself to forgive a boy for the faults of his father?" Remus replied, lowering his wand, yet his voice still held the threat. "You speak of what you have endured, and yet you can feel nothing for the pains of a boy whose destiny was forged the night Lily and James died?" Harry was watching Remus closely; watching the way his voice was both forceful yet imploring Snape to see reason. "Can you not find it in your heart to see that Lily died for love…a love you saw in her and respected, regardless of the way we all treated you? Can you not now, after all these years, let go of the bitterness and the loss?"

Snape seemed to be shivering; his whole body trembled as he attempted to warm himself by wrapping his cloak tighter about his shoulders. His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke again, "You know what it is to be doubted and suspected Remus. You understand how isolating ones past can prove to be…" Remus nodded slowly in response. Snape looked at Harry, black eyes searching green for an answer that was written there. Yet he turned away, his face twisted with something Harry could only read as grief and for a moment he could not understand it. Then he realised; they had always told him that he had his mother's eyes.

"I have lived with myself these long years knowing I could have saved her…I cared nothing for Potter or the baby I did not know…but for Lily; it shouldn't have been her path. The bitterness….the pain…the wrong I did her in betraying her faith in me I have to live with. I would not have it otherwise…" Snape gulped down hard, his voice once again became stiff and emotionless as he ended, "It is all I have."

Something silent, wordless seemed to be exchanged between Snape and Remus; their eyes locked for a moment, communicating a feeling of infinite sadness that made Harry shudder. Remus nodded and handed Snape back his wand. Harry jumped, his voice unusually quiet as he said, "But…but he might…"

"No Harry," Remus said softly, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder before he smiled, exhausted, "No, he won't." He held out Harry's wand for him to take, but as he stretched out his hand, Remus hesitated, his eyes earnest as he asked, "I ask you to trust me."

Harry nodded; all thoughts of physical retaliation left his mind as he saw the sad smile that had crept across Remus' lips as he handed Harry back his wand. He felt as if the past week had all been leading here, to this moment; that all his dreams and thoughts had been moving him towards this confrontation. He was meant to see Snape's memory of his mother, he was meant to dream of Sirius; this much Harry could no longer doubt. But as he watched Remus turn his back on Snape, for a moment Harry felt unable to follow. Snape had moved back behind his desk and with a flick of his wand had extinguished the candles and lit the brighter torches instead. Remus turned again, feeling that Harry was yet to follow, and watched as the boy stared at the man who had rolled out parchment upon his desk, and was once again consumed with his writing.

"Let's go now," Remus said and finally Harry followed, his eyes fixed on the back of Remus' head; his heart cold as he left the potions master behind.

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I humbly await your reviews. Only two more chapters to go. 


	15. Chapter 15

A./N: Thank you so much for the loverly reviews again. Some of your reactions were overwhelming so thank you! Thank you also for those of you who have offered constructive criticism. I feel a little dejected after the OOC remarks as I have taken great pains to make them as IC as I possibly can. But, I suppose, not everyone will like what I have done.

I am sorry that some still feel confused, and I hope this offers a greater amount of clarification (answering the questions, why that memory? why did remus show up? points about the Patronus NOT being an animal. what snape has been up to all week with his strange behaviour. why snape and remus feels he could have done more. the ambiguities of whether or not snape knew that wormtail was the informer) Wow, that's a lot of loose ends!

Anyway, after this there is only one more chapter, so it's kind of all comming to an end. I hope those of you have queried the plot are happy with what is resolved here (and to a lesser extent the last chapter). Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own it, so don't sue!

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For a moment or two, nothing passed between them; Remus seemed to be consumed in his own thoughts as Harry followed him, without question, through the deserted corridors of Hogwarts. Of all the people he had expected to be on the other side of the pounding door, Remus had not been one of them. He hadn't thought of Remus for months, not since he had seen him last at Kings Cross Station at the end of last term, when he had warned Uncle Vernon to treat Harry well. In the months that had elapsed, Harry had been too consumed with grief to think of anyone; not even Ron and Hermione had been able to reach him and now, as he remembered the way Remus had not only rescued Harry for a second time, but had also prevented him yet again from doing any harm, he felt consumed with guilt. 

"Pro…Professor?" Remus halted, turning to face Harry with amusement written in his eyes.

"You know I am not your teacher anymore…I haven't been for such a long time." Harry blushed; something about Remus in these surroundings had made him forget that it had actually been two years since Remus had taught at Hogwarts.

"Maybe it would be best if you stuck to Remus from now on?" he teased as Harry shot him an apologetic glance.

"Yeah…well…what I wanted to say was…I'm sorry…for not, you know…keeping in touch." Remus' eyes became soft with sadness as he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder which somehow prevented Harry from avoiding his gaze as he spoke.

"You have nothing to apologise for, I assure you. You have had a great deal on your mind over the summer, and who am I to tell you how it's right for you to grieve? And even if you had been in contact…" Remus hesitated for a moment before smiling sadly, "I fear would have not have been of much help."

"But you are here now," Harry stressed in attempt to extinguish the sadness from Remus' tired face. "If it hadn't been for you I don't know what Snape would have done…"

"I doubt very much whether he would have done anything too serious," but something about the way Remus said this made him sound uncertain. They began to climb the stairs, pausing in the middle and waiting patiently as they swung to change. "I think maybe I over-reacted slightly with the Patronus." For some reason, Remus avoided Harry's eyes as he said this. Harry once again saw the silvery face of Sirius before him, etched against the darkness of the classroom, mouthing silent instructions before prising Snape from him. Harry smiled despite himself and, as if to reassure Remus, he said, "I thought it was brilliant." Harry paused and as though it had just occurred to him he asked, "Is it…usual…you know, for a Patronus to take on the shape of a person instead of an animal?"

Remus hesitated before replying slowly, "No…no I don't think it is."

All around them, the portraits watched in silence or slept as they began to climb the stairs once more. After another moment of comfortable silence, Harry asked what he had been dying to know ever since Remus had stepped into the classroom.

"You got my letter didn't you?" To Harry's astonishment, Remus shook his head before he replied, "No, it was Dumbledore who received your letter."

"Then…" Harry threw a warning glance to Sir Cadogan, who responded by slamming down his visor after a grunt of disgust. "Then did he write to you? Did he tell you about what I had sent?"

Slowly, Remus nodded before he said cautiously, "But I knew, long before you sent the letter, that you were in need of help."

"But…but…how?" Remus stopped and, after slipping his hand inside his beaten and patched robes, showed Harry a small, square object wrapped in brown paper. Without even looking at Remus Harry snatched it, heart pounding as he tore off the paper to reveal the mirror beneath.

"How?" Harry's voice was almost angry as he turned the now perfect mirror over in his hand. "How did you fix it?"

"I didn't," Remus said, "This one was Sirius'."

Harry froze as he remembered the nights he had cried into the mirror; the nights he had whispered Sirius' name softly into the glass; the nights he had fallen asleep clutching it tightly. Remus had seen it all. Harry flinched away as Remus tried to touch his shoulder once more; suddenly hurt by the idea that someone other than Sirius had seen and heard what he said, thinking that he was alone.

"Why did you never speak to me?" Harry was trembling slightly, eyes still fixed on the mirror as they continued to walk. "Why didn't you ever let me know you were there, on the other side?"

"Try and consider it from my point of view," Remus reasoned, concerned, "If I had spoken to you through the mirror Harry when you were obviously so distraught, you may have mistaken me for Si…" Remus paused and swallowed the name down hard before continuing, "I did not know if you would happy to see my face instead of his."

"Of course I would have!" Harry's voice was strangely strained; his voice had tightened as he fought the urge to crumble. "I would have wanted to have known you were there…that anyone was there…that I wasn't…alone…"

"Oh Harry," Remus stopped and dropped to his knees in front of Harry, clutching both his hands as he stared up into the green, glassy eyes, "I see now I was wrong…it was a mistake to not speak to you. I thought it was enough that I was listening…that I was listening and watching over you. I see now I was wrong. Forgive me?"

Embarrassed Harry swiftly wiped the solitary tear that was rolling down his cheek, helping Remus to his feet. "I don't have to forgive you. You didn't know…nor did I…It doesn't seem to matter now does it?"

"No, perhaps not…" Remus smiled, his eyes growing distant as he seemed to forget Harry was there at all. Harry watched as he ran his hands through his greying hair and down over his face, which seemed once again dark and full of fatigue, disguising his youth with shades of sadness.

"So are you still interested in becoming an Auror?" Remus asked, his voice suddenly brightening as they continued to climb the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. Harry, taken a back by this sudden change of subject, stumbled over the words as he spoke them, "Yeah, well, sort of. I don't really know if I've got what it takes to be one anymore. The stamina I mean."

"Of course you have! Do you know how many third years could perfect a fully formed Patronus, with so little time to master the skill? Do you know how many fourth years would take it upon them selves to teach their fellow classmates Defence against the Dark Arts?" Harry blushed as Remus spoke. "Harry, you are incredibly talented. I have every faith that you will become whatever it is you chose to become. You are a Potter after all…" Harry smiled as Remus' words reminded him of his dream and the words Sirius had spoken to his mother. Remus seized on Harry's smile, and took this opportunity to broaden it by adding, "And Potter's aren't exactly known for selling themselves short."

"Remus…" Harry asked tentatively, waiting for Remus' complete attention before he continued, "Did Snape…did he…love my mum?"

"No Harry, I don't think he did."

"Then why…" Harry stopped, seeing from the expression on Remus' face that he hadn't finished speaking.

"I believe that what Snape felt for Lily was a lot more complicated than that. She was the only one who ever stood up for him you see. Even I didn't stop Sirius and your dad from tormenting him…"

"But you didn't like it though, did you?" Harry said defensively. Remus smiled.

"No, I didn't…but I didn't do anything to prevent it from happening either. Lily did though. She hated to see Snape victimised, especially by your dad. I always knew it was because she secretly liked him…though, of course, at the time, she would never admit to that." Harry grinned. Remus laughed softly under his breath before continuing, "And you know they had a lot in common, your mum and Snape I mean, more than you might think. They were both favourites of Horace Slughorn, the head of Slytherin; they both excelled at Potions; they both seemed to share a hatred of your father…" Remus paused.

"I don't think Snape ever loved your mum; I think he felt like she was the only one at Hogwarts that ever made an effort to understand him. He had the older Slytherins of course, like Lucius but…that was very different. They were Snape's protectors…they weren't really his friends." Harry felt Remus watching him closely; feeling his eyes scanning his face for a reaction before he continued, "He feels like he betrayed your mum by not warning her about Wormtail…Oh yes, he knew about Wormtail. He was the one who told Dumbledore that someone who was close to your parents was betraying them. Yet, he never once said who. I believe Dumbledore felt this was more than enough for the time being…Snape was already risking so much. Yet it caused so many problems; suspicion was everywhere…" Remus paused and swallowed hard before continuing, "He feels as if she deserved more from him…that he could have done more. Lily did deserve more…and so did your dad Harry. Whatever Snape may say, I know he feels so too. Yet whether or not Snape could have done more…this I remain unsure of. What I am sure of is that he certainly feels that what he did was not enough…that was what he was trying to show you in the Pensieve…he wanted to show you his guilt. In a strange way, that was his way of apologising."

Suddenly Harry found that it all made horrible sense; the Veritaserum…the questions about his parent's death. Once again Harry saw in his mind Snape's eyes as he watched the flames, that smile and the words he had spoken so quietly Harry could hardly hear _Little Lily Evans…I bet you died beautifully_. Telling the truth was his punishment…Harry had got it all wrong. Snape hadn't been punishing Harry at all, he had been punishing himself.

Overcome, Harry suddenly became giddy, stumbling backwards slightly before correcting his balance. At once Remus' arm was round Harry's waist, steadying him as he breathed uncertainly for a moment.

"Harry…" Remus' voice was distant and swollen as Harry's head swam. "Harry…are you alright?"

That feeling…that feeling of an arm around him, it was so like the feeling of being in Sirius' arms in his dream. It felt so natural, so reassuring this pressure around him that almost without realising what he was doing, Harry flung himself into Remus, burying his head into his patch worked robes; the smell of the dusty fabric filling Harry's head of memories of Grimmauld Place as he sobbed heavily into Remus' shoulder.

"I…I…I…" Harry hiccupped hysterically, feeling Remus hold him firmly against him as he shuddered as the tears past through him. There was nothing now but memories of Sirius'; the memories of what Harry had known and what he could only begin to guess at. For some reason, being around Remus again had proved to much; the Pensieve, the dream, the Patronus had all been too much and as Remus said nothing as he let Harry cry against him, he felt for the first time in months, relieved to not be alone.

Gradually, Harry could feel the tears dry up, he felt himself stop shaking. Knowing that it had been enough, Remus released him, allowing Harry to withdraw without raising his eyes. Harry took the handkerchief Remus silently offered, wiping his tears and cleaning his smeary glassed before handing it back.

"Thank you," Harry said simply. Remus smiled as though in pain, his voice seemed clear of all distress as he replied, "It is time I left. It's getting late."

For the first time Harry noticed that they had long been standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was now dabbing at her eyes dramatically with hem of her gown.

"Will I see you again soon?" Harry asked, his voice betraying his heart; the desire to be close to the only one person still alive who had known both his godfather and his father well. Remus' face creased into a smile etched with fatigue as he said, "You have a visit to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" Harry nodded. "Well then," Remus began, folding the damp handkerchief and putting it back into his pocket, "I'll walk with you there if you like." Harry smiled warmly, sniffing away the last of tears before saying, "Yeah, I would thanks."

Remus smiled. "Well until tomorrow then. Try and get some sleep tonight." Harry's heart warmed with these paternal words and as he whispered the password to the Fat Lady he glanced over his shoulder to watch Remus walk slowly down the stairs, before disappearing down one of the corridors below.

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I humbly await the reaction. 


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Well, this is it, the final chapter. I don't know when I wasn't writing this story now; it has seriously become a big part of what I do. As you can probably tell, I finished writing this fic a week ago and so I'm just updating now (which probably accounts for the quick updates).

The reviews have been very mixed of late, but still, I thank you for all of them. I'm glad that most of you feel I managed to keep characters IC and that my story is well written. The only point on which people have raised issues really is the so called "reasoning" behind what Snape has done. Maybe you just expected something bigger? Maybe his motivations don't fit your idea of Snape as a character? In fact, I don't even know if they fit MY ideas od Snape. He is probably the best charcter to write as he is always so ambiguous. Personally, I don't think it matters what the exact motivations are, except in the fact that they have all added up to make him the character he is to date.

I'm glad people enjoyed the interaction between Remus and Harry. I too was a little disappointed that J.K. didin't dedicate much time to their relationship in HBP. They are, after all, united in grief. But, I suppose we can forgive her. Remus was off doing important things after all :-P

I would like to thank all of those that have been here from the begining (that is quite alot of you!) Without your encouragement this may have been just a lonely oneshot! Thank you to all of those that have come over from Potions and Snitches. (You must have done ALOT of reading!) Thank you for all the nice things that have said, all the constructive criticisms, and all the well thought out opinions on my plot. They were all appreciated.

I am currently about eight chapters into writing what will follow this. I am going back to pick out questions I have deliberately and subtley raised in this fiction regarding the problematic nature of Remus and Sirius' relationship. I believe it is important to look at this carefully, as I am currently planning a fic AFTER that one which will deal with the problem of the Death of the Potters: how much did Dumbledore know? What exactly was Snape's role? Why didn't the Potters take Dumbledore up in his offer of being their Secret Keeper? Why did Sirius distrust Remus? And why did no-one tell Remus that Peter was the Secret-Keeper?

I hope this is enough to tempt you to read this fics too! (Remus/Sirius one will be posted under their character sections obviously).

So, here it is, the final chapter. I have tried to make it a light ending to what has otherwise been an angsty tale. I am going to address the problem of Ron and Hermione (but how can I resolve it?), while Remus and Harry say goodbye.

Disclaimer: Thank you for J.K. for writing characters that I myself wish I had created. I didn't however, so don't sue.

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It was a damp and chilly morning; dark clouds hung ominously over head and dared to threaten rain. As Harry looked around the faces of those that were gathered outside the gates of Hogwarts, his heart sank as he watched Ron and Hermione approach him; Hermione's bushy hair sticking out angrily beneath her hat, Ron's face bitten red by the cold. For a moment Harry could do nothing but shift nervously on his feet, hands in his pocket as he buried his chin in his scarf to escape. But it was no use, they were directly in front of him now, and Harry prepared himself for whatever it was to follow; shouting, accusations, tears…anything…as long as it was done and forgotten just as quickly.

"Ron and I have been talking," Hermione began eventually as the crowd began the walk to Hogsmeade. Harry automatically became tense with anticipation. "And well…we think we've been really unfair to you since the beginning of term."

"What?" gasped Harry, unable to hide his surprise as he turned to look at Ron.

"You see the thing is Harry…" Ron began, nervously kicking a loose stone from the earth bellow, "Me and Hermione arguing can't have helped…you know…with everything you've been going through. We didn't realise how bad we had got until you erm…" Ron flushed crimson as he too buried his chin in his scarf to muffle the words as he spoke them, "Until you shouted at us the other day."

"Yeah…" Harry began slowly, not fully understanding what they were trying to say. "About that…"

"Oh don't worry about that!" Hermione cut him off briskly, pre-empting an apology that was never to come. "We realise that what you said was obviously down to stress. I mean, you had had to put up with a week with Snape…especially after the Veritaserum incident. I don't blame you if I'm honest…I don't know if I would have been half as patient."

Hermione smiled as if to cover her tracks, but Harry's eyes were fixed on Ron who seemed to be taking the greatest care not to look at Harry.

"Yeah but…erm…well…I think you've got the wrong…"

Suddenly their conversation was interrupted by a man with sandy coloured hair and extremely scruffy clothes who smiled at Ron and Hermione as he approached. Seeing the look of disappointment on Harry's face, Remus' smile left him, and he took a step backwards as he said, "Oh sorry, it seems I've interrupted something."

Harry noticed Ron grimace as Hermione swiftly and enthusiastically said, "You haven't at all. Why don't you walk with us?" Remus seemed to have listened but not heard, his eyes were reading the message Harry was silently giving him. After smiling secretly to Harry, Remus straightened his back, pulling his fingerless gloves onto his hands as he said, "I'll just be walking a little way ahead. Catch up with me Harry." And with that, he strode swiftly away.

Hermione looked flustered, the wind was whipping her hair around her face and she was finding it impossible to smooth it down.

"I guess what we're getting at is that, well, what you said about Ron and me…" Harry shot a glance to Ron who was still staring with his fixed on the floor as he walked. "We talked about it and both agreed on what a ridiculous idea it was…I mean…you must have been _really _stressed to have even suggested it." Hermione's laugh was nervous; Ron's face was completely red.

Hermione stopped laughing, her eyes swiftly scanning the people around her for a possible means of escape. Squinting as if she saw someone she recognised she said swiftly, "I think I see Ginny" and without another word she strode off and disappeared into the crowd.

For a long time, Ron said nothing, and Harry let him enjoy the silence, somewhat relieved that Hermione had finally left. He knew by now that when Ron was this quiet he was debating something; he was measuring up the pros and cons in his head of pursuing a course of action; like when he was debating whether or not to tell his mother something the twins had done. So Harry waited for Ron to break the silence as they walked in the wind and the cold.

"When did Lupin get here?" he asked, finally lifting his eyes from the ground beneath his feet.

"Last night," Harry replied simply. Ron said something that sounded like "Oh" before turning his attention once more to the path. For a few uncomfortable moments they stayed like this before, after clearing his throat awkwardly, Ron said in a quiet whisper, "You were right you know."

"What did you say?" Harry asked, hardly believing his ears. This time when Ron spoke it was firmer and much louder than before.

"You were right with what you said about…you know…me…" Ron froze, unable to finish the sentence before he babbled incoherently, "Bloody hell I can't even bring myself to say it."

"You fancy Hermione?" Harry said. Ron nodded.

"I don't know…I really don't know why. I've tried to work it out…in my head it doesn't make sense. I mean she's bossy…really bossy. All she does is have a go. And don't even get me started on the way she thinks she knows _everything_…" Ron took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing, "I think sometimes…I try to think when it started but I don't even know…I wish I did though Harry…but I don't…It doesn't make sense, and I don't want to like her but I do."

Harry grinned and Ron reciprocated with a smile that looked more like a wince as he continued, "I really, really do."

"I know."

Ron huffed, kicking another stone much harder than the first. "I tried to tell her last night you know. I was actually quite pleased you said it. I'd been trying to say it for weeks. But when I bought it up she changed it round…made it seem like a great big joke. I couldn't tell her then…she'd just think I was mental…or messing her around."

Harry said nothing; relieved that for the first time in ages he was having a normal conversation with his best friend. Ron looked at Harry confused.

"What you smiling for? I thought you'd be weird about it…"

"Ron, I've known for ages. It's not exactly a surprise." Ron tried to smile, but he winced again before burying his head in his hands as he moaned, "Its hopeless anyway really…it's too late for anything else…she'll only ever see be as a friend…"

Harry threw an arm around Ron and shook him hard, causing him to drop his hands from his face as he said enthusiastically, "Come on, it's not over until the Fat Lady sings…"

Ron smiled despite himself.

"Have you ever heard that old bag sing?"

* * *

"Well?" Remus asked when Harry caught up with him, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them hard. Harry shrugged before shaking his head. Remus rolled his eyes.

"I'm beginning to think those two will never get together." Harry sighed in agreement.

As they reached the top of the hill they looked down on the town of Hogsmeade below; smoke curling from the chimneys up into the miserable sky. Students rushed past them yet Harry and Remus stood looking down to the town below, motionless and silent. Finally it was Harry that spoke first, not turning his eyes from the town as he said, "I've been thinking about something…something I saw in Snape's Pensieve…something I can't explain…."

He automatically had Remus' attention; his eyes were now fixed on Harry who was still gazing down into the valley below. He watched as he blinked, slowly turning his attention towards him and asked, "In the memory Snape showed me I saw…an argument." Harry noticed Remus grow pale; his eyes once again becoming dark and melancholy as Harry continued to speak. "I want to know Remus…I want to know what Sirius and my dad fought about that night…"

Harry watched as Remus exhaled and closed his eyes, thinking silently to himself for a moment as if Harry wasn't there. All around was cold and frozen; Remus appeared so much older than Harry knew he was as he opened his eyes once more. He hesitated as if he was thinking that what he was about to say should not be said, but the smile that flooded his features reassured Harry, and the words he spoke immediately put Harry's mind to rest. "You know I really couldn't tell you…it was so long ago. But I can assure you Harry, it was nothing serious."

Both of them once more turned their attention to the town of Hogsmeade below, and the swarms of Hogwarts students that had descended. Harry knew from the silence that had descended that it was time for Remus to say goodbye.

"Can I write to you?" Harry suddenly asked, the question causing Remus' face to flood with confusion. Harry blushed and mumbled, "Well…that is…if you're not too busy…"

"Of course you can Harry. You don't even have to ask." Remus turned and noticed Ron and Hermione, standing a safe distance apart from one another, hovering nearby as they waited for Harry. Remus waved them over and as they approached, he pressed a number of coins into Harry's hand and asked, "Would you do me a favour?"

"Anything."

"Will you buy me some chocolate from Honeydukes," Harry grinned. "I seem to be running low." And with that Remus turned and walked away, pulling his robes tightly around him as he descended the path back towards Hogwarts.

Harry pocketed the money and, after watching the shape of Remus disappear round the bend, he turned to Ron and Hermione and said, "Come on, I've been neglecting you for far too long. Time for some Butterbeers I think."


End file.
